The Mummy
by Spectrie
Summary: Midoriya Izuku and his adopted brother, Kirishima, must enlist the help of Bakugou, a ridiculously short fused mercenary who knows the whereabouts of the famed lost Egyptian city of Hamunaptra. Little do they know, the powers that they are messing with should have remained undisturbed, and there is something more lurking within the tombs of Hamunaptra than treasure...
1. Prologue

_This is being adapted from my AO3 account Spectra_

 _Updates will always be posted on AO3 first, and this fic is currently incomplete with weekly- semi weekly updates._

 _This is uh... Literally the length of a novel and will likely sport 150,000 words around its completion_

 _As always, thanks for reading!_

 _..._

 _Thebes, Ancient Egypt_

She had to escape.

Her bare feet scraped against the stone city tile as she ran, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. Her shadow was her only companion, the dark disfiguring it as it clung to her. She couldn't suffer her husband a moment longer. Couldn't stand to bear him another child. She was a fool for ever attempting to try and love him, a fool for thinking she could change him. She cursed the day she ever laid eyes on him. Cursed him, his red hair, his blue eyes. She damned every child that would ever share his blood, even if that included her own.

But the pharaoh... He was a kind, benevolent ruler. The royal family would surely protect her, shield her from his evil. The palace. That was were she had to go.

Her dress was torn, the embroidered silk falling away in tatters as she moved through the city towards the towering palace. Her face still stung from where she'd been struck, the bruising fingerprints beginning to color her arms. But this would be the last time. She just had to reach the gates. Then she would finally be free.

She almost tripped in her rush, the path ahead unlit, her footing mere guesswork. She had waited until it was night, the dark sky immense and speckled with bright, vivid stars. Only them and the moon lit her way now, but even the large shadows did not grant her any relief. She could still feel his presence looming over her, no matter where she went.

She stumbled as she reached the palace stairs, the torches lining the archway straining her eyes as she stepped into the light. It was exposing

"Halt!" The guards shouted, moving to block her entry. She raced up the steps regardless, undeterred, having gone too far now to let their weapons frighten her. It was so close. The heavy gates within reach.

She struggled to catch her breath, her voice shaking with panic. "Please! Please, let me in!" She lurched forward, reaching for the handle, her fingers just barely brushing the cool gold before she was stopped.

The guards roughly grabbed her, forcing her to the ground on her knees. Tears, unbidden but no less honest, began falling from her eyes. She grabbed the plates of the one man's armor, casting him a pleading expression. "I _must_ speak to the Pharaoh! He must see me, _please!_ " She could see in their eyes that they recognized her, but were uncertain of what to do. No doubt she looked a mess, her hair in a state of disarray, her court clothes torn and battered beyond recognition. Ice began to frost between her fingers as her breathing quickened.

Like a ghost, Enji appeared. He slunk out of the shadows, red hair betraying subtle glints of fire in the swaying torchlight.

Fear siezed her heart, and she screamed, struggling against the guards as he moved closer to the palace. He would not take her, not again. Never again. She wrestled one of the guards' blades free and stumbled backwards onto the steps, brandishing her stolen weapon wildly.

The palace gates shuddered and swung open. Either through luck or fate, The pharaoh was suddenly standing in the archway, his young prince trailing after him. The child had a thumb in his mouth and another hand clutched to his father's robes. His young green eyes shone with innocence. His small figure was lost when the pharaoh stepped in front of him, large and intimidating.

"What is going on?" Toshinori demanded. He looked at the woman before him, concern visibly sparking in his features. His eyes caught on the wounds littering her arms, fresh bruises that would have normally been covered by the sleeves of her dress, now in full display.

No. She shook her head, gritting her teeth. It was too late. He was here. He would use his honeyed words to try and smooth things over, speak above her and silence her cries. But he wouldn't have her again. He couldn't. He would _never_ touch her again.

She smiled, broken and twisted, raising the blade high in the air. The pharaoh's eyes widened.

"My body-" She hissed, "Is _no longer his temple!_ "

Without hesitation, she plunged the blade deep into her heart. Pain slammed into her face, distorting it, before it became slack. The pharaoh, Toshinori, watched in horror as her body crumpled to the stone steps like that of a discarded doll. Blood flowed freely down the pathway. Stunned to silence, Toshinori moved forward, kneeling beside the body of what had once been a strong and resilient woman. Anger sparked in his chest. He raised a livid glare to his priest, his expression demanding an explanation.

"She lost her mind. You should see what she did to the boy." Endeavor said cooly. There was a tension in his jaw, anger flickering in his eyes. He had yet to take his eyes off the corpse in the pharaoh's arms, but he made no move towards her.

"What did you do?" He asked lowly. Silence answered him. This had been no accident. He knew this woman. She had been vibrant, joyful, and eager to please. Powerful in the magical arts. He had sensed changes in her these past years, but had done nothing. She had looked empty the last time he laid eyes on her, when he presented his prince to her and the other members of the upper echelon. Hollowed out and sad, and far too thin for a woman who had just recently given birth. He should've done something then. He knew of Enji's obsessions, but had always chosen to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could have saved her. He laid her down and motioned for the guards to escort his son away. "Let me speak to my priest."

The guards nodded and ushered the wide eyed prince back into the palace, who only lightly protested. The boy turned to look back at his father, rubbing one of his eyes in sleepiness. His tiny mouth pinched in the beginnings of an upset. Toshinori managed to fake a small, reassuring smile to his son as they left, which seemed to satisfy the prince enough that he left without further complaint. The pharaoh turned back to his priest.

"We will speak inside." The words came out in a harsh snap. The pharaoh's eyes had a sharp, angry spark to them, and the shadows around his face made them glow. Enji followed him into the palace, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the cold marble.

The doors groaned to partially shut behind them as they entered one of the palace's many private rooms, a large balcony on the side inviting the night breeze. Long, exaggerated silk curtains lined the corners of the archway, teasing the moonlight as they danced with the soft breeze. Toshinori faced away from Enji, his hands clasped behind him. They were the only two in the room.

"Endeavor, Enji, court priest, councilman... Throughout the several names you have accumulated these many years, I have thought of you as a friend and ally." Toshinori began, his words soft and sure. He brought his palm forward, reaching for the magic within him. In his hands sparked a small, golden flame. "A trusted advisor in the realm of magic." He continued, closing his hand and snuffing it out. He turned to face his priest. "But this is something that cannot be overlooked."

Enji fought to keep his face expressionless, even as the fury crept into his chest. "I've done nothing wrong." He clipped, neglecting to regulate his tone. "That woman lost her mind, burned half the face off of my prized son-"

Toshinori grit his teeth at the words he used. Through his outrage he felt a spark of concern for their children. He would have to send people out to retrieve all four from the home, especially if what Enji was saying was true and one of them was injured. The image of their mother's bruised arms came to the forefront of his mind. No, they couldn't be near their father. They would have to stay in the palace until he got to the truth of the matter. It wouldn't be an issue. His young prince was a sweet, caring soul and would love the company of other children. He grit his teeth, decided.

"Until further notice, I am stripping you of your title." Toshinori said plainly. "I will send for your children, and they will stay here in the palace, beyond your reach, until such a time comes that I know you're innocent of any wrongdoing." He paused, his icy eyes glowing wickedly in the dark. "Or, if you are guilty."

It took a moment for Enji to process what the pharaoh had said, his anger slow to ignite in his shock. His control slipped. Dark red flames blew to life on his arms. He fought to keep them in check, gripping his fists tightly as they flickered with varying intensity. Without his title, he meant nothing. Without his children, his legacy was nothing. Toshinori didn't appear startled or concerned at the magical outburst.

"You can't do this to me." Enji hissed, trembling with fury as the pharaoh turned to leave.

"I will do what's right, Enji." Toshinori stated as he walked past. "That's all I've ever done."

Enji turned and watched as Toshinori strode to the entrance of the room, to inform the guards, and surely the council, of his decision. Enji's flames faintly lit the room and cast long, dark shadows. This fool, this _pharaoh_ , would not take _anything_ from him. Reaching into his scabbard, Enji silently withdrew his sword. On the main doors, the shadow of his figure played out his movements, and Toshinori froze, scarcely moving in time to face him before the long, curved blade sunk deeply into his gut.

Toshinori gasped wetly, staring eye to eye with him in shock. Enji leaned forward so he could whisper in Toshinori's ear. "Now, _I_ will be pharaoh." He hissed, wrenching the blade deeper. "With your magic I will rule _all of Egypt!_ "

A small scream sounded in the corner, and Toshinori managed to turn his head to see his son, the young prince, had been hiding behind one of the pillars. Disbelief fought its way through the pain. He must have managed to sneak past his assigned guard. Enji would kill him.

Clutching the blade in his gut, Toshinori shoved Enji backwards with a burst of power, the bloody sword clattering to the ground between them. Enji slammed into one of the columns, and it cracked upon impact. The pharaoh coughed blood, falling to his knees on the marble floors.

His son ran up to him, tears streaming from his eyes as he clutched the arm of his father's robes. From the other side of the room, Enji was already getting up, the dark flames starting to billow around his whole frame.

"The guards-" Toshinori panted, struggling to dislodge his son's grip. He couldn't let his child be caught in the middle of this fight. If his priest managed to kill him, his sole heir would be next.

His son adamantly shook his head, his body trembling. "Won't leave you!" He cried, his small hand finding the gaping wound in his father's abdomen. The blood stained it red, and his emerald green eyes widened as he stared at it, uncomprehending.

Enji struggled to his feet, wrenching a dagger from his clothes. "I'll kill you both!" He bellowed, the flames swirling around the weapon. The dagger glowed, runes etching onto the blade as the magic ignited it. Gripping the stem, Enji hurled it toward Toshinori.

The young prince launched himself into the blade's path even has his father reached to stop him, his small arm extending towards the weapon. His green eyes lit with an unearthly light, his arms beginning to crackle even as he screamed-

" ** _NOOOOOO!_** "

In that instant the whole room seemed to explode, light bathing the interior as the prince's magic reduced the dagger and surrounding walls to dust. Enji was thrown backwards, smashing his head into the balcony railing. Toshinori had to shield his eyes as the light blinded him for several seconds. He didn't know his son was capable of such a spell. The sounds of stone and marble cracking deafened him, and he could do nothing but wait until the magic was finished.

When the light faded, Toshinori heard a small thud. Unmasking his eyes, he saw his son had collapsed.

The room was utterly destroyed. Rubble fell from what remained of the ceiling, half of it having been blown off. The moon lit the clouds of dust that billowed from the room interior, the breeze gentle in contrast to the violence that had just occurred, slowly wafting the fumes away from the wreckage. Columns were leaning and broken, the once grand crown molding chipped and split. The tile beneath them was completely shattered in a circle around them. For a child so young, to create this much destruction…

Every one of his heartbeats released another heavy flow of blood from his wound, but even so he managed to grasp his son's limp arm and pull him towards him, cradling his body against his. He had very nearly lost him, due to his own carelessness. His son. His son who had apparently inherited the pharaoh's magic. Shouts reverberated around them, and the half broken room doors slammed open. Toshinori looked up to see the palace guard as they came in a great wave, encircling them. The pain made his head pound, and he was growing dizzy. Even so, he managed to look up when he saw one of the leaders of his guard, Shota, approach them.

"What happened?" Shota said calmly, kneeling down to assess the two of them. "They informed me of the incident that occurred outside." His eyes caught on the wound in the pharaoh's stomach, and he quickly motioned for the guards to bring a healer.

"Enji." Toshinori said simply, forcing a smile. "I should have known."

Shota didn't agree or disagree, simply moving out of the way as the court healer, Chiyo, rushed to them, skidding to a stop in front of him. Her age didn't make her any less efficient, her greying hair pulled up and her wrinkled eyes narrowing as she inspected him. She had been sleeping, as most of the palace was this time of night, but the explosion must have woke her.

"The boy first." Toshinori said weakly, turning his arms forward to hand him to her.

She shook her head. "It's you I'm worried about, pharaoh. You're actively bleeding."

"The boy." He coughed.

Chiyo looked conflicted before finally accepting the toddler into her arms. He appeared unharmed, merely exhausted. Which he would be, if he was the one who cast the spell that destroyed part of the palace. From behind her, she heard angry yells and the sound of someone being dragged. Turning her shoulder, she watched as the guards pulled the unconscious high priest away by his arms. Chiyo shuddered, thinking of the punishment he would suffer for betraying his pharaoh. She turned to Shota, nodding discreetly. She would do a more thorough check on the child later, but for now she needed to treat the pharaoh's wounds.

"He'll be alright, he just needs some rest." She said gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the boy's ear. If only his father was in the same situation.

Shota leaned down and plucked him from her grasp, tucking the child against him. "Then that is what he will get." Shota said simply. He looked down at the pharaoh, who was shaking from blood loss. "Now you, Yagi."

The pharaoh chuckled at the casual use of his name. The laugh quickly turned into a cough, and the blood splattered on his white robes. Chiyo quickly went to his side, pressing a hand to his stomach. The blade had went completely through him, exiting on his back. It had hit several vital organs. She felt her face blanche. Even with her healing magic, she would never be able to fully fix it. But she could close it up, and that was all she needed to do.

"The damage is too extensive. I won't be able to completely restore you." She said softly. A sudden thought hit her, and she struggled to meet the pharaohs gaze as his consciousness dwindled. "What if we use the books?" She said quietly. The books were the epitome of the pharaohs magic, capable of destroying entire nations, or even bringing back the dead. The books would contain the power she needed.

But the pharaoh shook his head quickly. "The books are forbidden." He grit out. Even his life was not worth unleashing their power. "Just...do what you can, Chiyo." He said simply.

Chiyo nodded sadly, reluctantly muttering the proper spell even as the pharaoh's head tilted to the side, his body growing limp as he finally fell into unconsciousness. The healing process would take several hours, and as her hands glowed with the healing magic she was so practiced in, a part of her heart broke knowing the pharaoh would never be the same after this.

Shota turned his head as one of the palace guards gripped his shoulder, whispering in his ear. They had Enji secured, but were unsure what to do next. Shota let his gaze fall on Toshinori, who was no longer able to give orders given his current state. "Chiyo." He said, drawing her briefly from her meditation. "How long until the pharaoh wakes?"

She shook her head, the glow from her hands casting deep, worried lines in her face. "I don't know. It could be days."

That wasn't any good. Enji was a powerful magic user and a hazard to the city if he managed to free himself. The decision would have to be made now. He looked down at the sleeping face in his arms. The prince was far too young to rule in his father's place, and the pharaoh's wife was an amazing ruler herself, but was too gentle to decide on something so gruesome as Enji's punishment. Toshinori wouldn't like it. Shota looked to the guard.

"Then, in the pharaoh's absence, I will make the decision concerning Enji's fate." He said plainly. Nobody objected. He started listing off orders. Balancing the child in his arms, Shota waved down a single man, beckoning him forward. "Wake the queen. Tell her what has happened." Shota told him. The guard nodded, vanishing through the doorway. The royal wing was on the other side of the palace, and it would take a few minutes for her to arrive. Shota deposited the child in another guard's arms. "Stay here with him and the pharaoh." Shota instructed. The guard agreed, being very careful to balance the prince's head.

Surveying the room, Shota took one final look at his downed pharaoh, his gaze narrowing in anger. The entire nation would seek revenge for their injured king. He snapped his fingers, and the rest of the guard followed him out the door.

"We'll take care of Enji."

 _Battle at Thebes, - "Modern Day" (circa 1940's)_

Thebes sucked. It was hot to be in and dull to look at. Weeks of travel, hundreds of miles trekked to reach this place, and Bakugou was less than impressed. Nothing but crumbling columns and walls littered the scorching hot valley. A ghost of what it might have been. It was wholly different from the grand and unearthly visage his fellow soldiers had so excitedly painted for him. No, this place wasn't brimming with treasure. It was laced with something else; something that felt terribly similar to death. And it seemed like it was coming swifter than he would have liked.

"Fuck this sun." Bakugou spat, yanking his rifle out in front of him. It was strapped around his torso with a single worn leather strap, and it groaned in protest as he adjusted it. The sun was merciless on his exposed face, and his brow was steadily beading with sweat and blurring his vision. He spared himself a second to wipe his forehead on his arm, growling in frustration. His uniform was beaten and well worn, beige with long sleeves and a high collar. It protected from sunburn, but it did nothing to help with the heat. The rough canvas material scraped roughly against his skin.

"To arms, men! To arms!" His captain shouted. Sunlight gleamed off of his sword as he waved it proudly above his head. His white, skittish horse was kicking up clouds of dirt as its rider spurred him behind the city's dilapidated wall line.

The captain's rally was sudden and completely unexpected. There was yelling and running as soldiers hurried to take their positions, some tripping and others scrabbling in the sand to retrieve lost ammo dropped in their haste.

Bakugou paid them no mind, eyes narrowing as he calmly loaded his rifle and pointed it to the horizon. He could see them. There, just over the last dune, a billowing plume of sand announced their presence. Bakugou bit back a stream of curses as their figures became more defined. Well over three hundred men at least, all mounted. He felt Mineta shake next to him.

"You really think… they're coming to kill us?" Mineta squeaked out.

"Shut the fuck up." Bakugou hissed. "Are you with me on this or not?"

"O-Of course… Your strength gives me strength." Mineta assured, locking eyes with him.

Even in the hot sun, Bakugou could see the lie etched on the small man's face. He was a poor fucking liar. For the past few months he'd watched the bastard clip cards and gamble with loaded dice, cheating more than a few of the more idiotic men in the group out of their already sparse earnings. And there certainly were a lot of idiots in the garrison.

Bakugou huffed, vocalizing his adamant disbelief in Mineta's statement, and promptly set his eyes back on the horizon, focusing on the oncoming enemies. Steadying his scope, he surveyed the lineup.

Definitely mounted. Black shrouds covered their faces, and they appeared to be wearing tightly wrapped black clothing, the ends flying out behind them as they rode. Their horse's saddles were adorned with beads and brightly colored pompoms, and he was surprised by the intricacy. They rode their horses fast and hard, and he could see the white foam that flecked the corners of their horses' mouths, their eyes white and wild in their stampede. Now that they were closer, he could see their weapons. Some had guns, but the majority of them were wielding scimitars, waving them over their heads as they sounded battle cries.

He spared a glance back at his own defense, hissing in frustration as he looked at the bumbling group of a hundred men, some still struggling to load their guns. These were people he'd spent the last few months with and he knew their battle capabilities. It was going to be a fucking massacre.

His captain must have realized the same thing, his face paling underneath the thick layer of sunburn, his eyes going wide as he dropped his sword in favor of the reins. In a sharp motion, he whipped his horse the other way and swiftly urged his mount in the opposite direction of the unknown enemy, leaving his men slack jawed in his sudden abandonment. A furious heat filled Bakugou's chest.

"Fucking coward!" Bakugou roared, his body twisting towards the fleeing commander. His body trembled with the urge to go after him and beat the man senseless for his desertion, but there was no time. Panicked shouts drew his attention back to the swiftly advancing enemy, who were no more than a few hundred yards away.

"B-Bakugou…" Mineta sniveled, lightly grabbing his pant leg, eyes wide and brimming with tears. He managed a small, shaky laugh. "Looks like you just got promoted."

"Fucking let-" Bakugou viciously kicked his leg free, "Go!" Turning to face the approaching tide of swords, he set the trigger on his rifle and repositioned. "Take aim!" He screamed, setting his scope to track the closest horseman. Only a single beat passed before they complied. The men barely hesitated to obey, as frightened as they were, and he heard the steadying clicks of guns being aimed, ready to fire. Beside him, he heard a small thud. Looking over, he turned to see a lone rifle and a small imprint in the sand where Mineta used to be.

"The fuck…" Bakugou tracked Mineta's retreating figure off in the ruins.

"Wait- wait for me!" Mineta yelled distantly after the captain, stumbling a little in the deep sand.

For some reason, Mineta's chicken run really didn't surprise him. He let out a breath of exasperation.

"Un-fucking-believable." Bakugou deadpanned. He turned back to his scope. "Steady!" He shouted, eyes narrowing on his own target. One hundred and fifty yards…. One hundred yards….Fifty… "FIRE!" Bakugou shouted, and his command was immediately drowned out by the deafening sound of gunfire. The first wave of horsemen were struck, sending both rider and horse crashing to the desert floor.

Their initial volley appeared to be successful, but his men were all shouting and acting wildly now, and would no longer take direction. As the second wave of riders jumped the small rock wall, it became every man for themselves. Bakugou could swear the air was immediately tinted with the smell of blood.

In quick, expert motions, he reloaded in time to shoot another oncoming rider. He lunged to the side to avoid the horse's hooves. His teeth grit together in frustration as he again reloaded, shot, reloaded. They were coming from every direction. He narrowly dodged a lethally swung scimitar, his head jerking sharply to avoid being beheaded. Without breaking eye contact with the rider, he effortlessly shot, finding his mark, before letting his eyes slide over to his next target.

He downed several more men before he ran out of bullets for his rifle. He threw it down, sidestepping through a thundering flurry of panicking horses to make a break for the interior of the ruins, his followers in close pursuit. He felt the slight bite of irony as he glanced down to see the ghost of Mineta's footprints.

He went for the fallen column surrounded by two walls, only taking a second to scramble over the edge. He rolled to break his fall, falling sharply on his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he turned and reached into his pistol holsters, firing two handed as another few riders approached from the left side of the city. Were they coming in from all angles?

He ran opposite to them, heading diagonally. He stuck close to the walls, his sore shoulder occasionally grating the crumbling buildings. The pain kept him focused. Bits of dust nicked at his eyes and he blinked rapidly to keep his vision clean. All in all, the situation was not ideal. The walls and columns provided some semblance of cover, but he had no way of knowing if more of them were waiting for him in the outskirts.

The sound of hoofbeats getting closer sent another thrill of energy through him. His heart ran into overdrive,but he fought to keep himself calm. If he started pumping excess adrenaline, he would be in trouble.

The horses were nearly on him now, and he heard the harsh cuts of a language he didn't recognize. Cutting a corner sharply, he slammed his back on the wall and fired two rounds as a pair of horses flew past. The hooded men went boneless in their saddles, but their mounts continued their reckless gallop. Switching open the chamber of his pistol, Bakugou counted three bullets. The second one only two. Five shots left.

He could hear cries behind him from the rest of the group, no doubt seeing the pair of horses run out of the city with their riders dead. Pushing off his cover, he kept forward. If he stayed still they would find him. Arms pumping, Bakugou couldn't hold back the loud curse that ripped out of his mouth when a few riders came at his right side. Pulling up his pistol, he shot three times in succession, the horses almost plowing him over as their owners fell limp from their seats.

Two shots left. His chances of survival were rapidly dropping. Bakugou flew around another column and saw what appeared to be a tall, stacked building with a narrow doorway. His gaze zeroed in on it, and his legs burned as he ran even faster towards the small opening. The door was a dark, black stone; completely different from the rest of the building. It was inscribed with a variety of hieroglyphs, scattered in an assortment of rows that spanned the whole length of the door. The deeply etched lines portrayed a scene of pictures Bakugou wouldn't even begin to know how to translate, but the door looked thick and heavy enough to keep the mounted warriors at bay and that's all he fucking cared about.

Just less than fifty yards from the entrance, a familiar scream drew his attention. He turned to see Mineta was in the same predicament as he was. Two horsemen were in close pursuit. The one rider had a rifle, and was taking aim with his unoccupied arm, the gun steady despite his furious riding.

Immediately, part of him wanted to ditch Mineta. He was a sleazy fucking asshole. But at the same time, he felt the annoying prickle of honor; and leaving a soldier behind to get shot or beheaded didn't sit well in his stomach.

"Fucking hell." Bakugou snarled, twisting his body around. He whipped his pistol in front of him and fired quickly, his second shot missing the rider but hitting the horse dead center. The horse let out a shrill, distorted bugle as its front legs fell out from underneath it, slamming its rider into the sand. "Mineta!" Bakugou yelled, "Hey where the fuck are you-"

Mineta slammed into his shoulder as he ran past him, knocking him off center. Bakugou stumbled, throwing his arms up in agitation after Mineta's retreating figure. He was headed for the black carved door for cover, not even bothering to wait for him.

"You fucking asshole - I just saved your fucking life, you ungrateful-" Bakugou cut himself off when he saw twenty hooded figures ride around the bend. "Shit- Hey, what-" Bakugou started running towards the building, Mineta already having reached it. His face was still pale, but he had a small, manic grin in his face.

"Hold that door." Bakugou growled, as the realization hit him.

Mineta started pushing it closed, the stone howling in protest.

"Hold that _fucking_ door!" Bakugou roared, pumping his arms faster."You fucking shit, if you close that fucking- _God fucking dammit!_ "

Bakugou slammed his body into the black stone seconds after Mineta shoved it shut, the opening effectively sealed. Bakugou screamed in protest, slamming his fist against the carvings in pure fury.

Shots ricocheted on the stone around him. He had no time to play tug-o-war with the fucking door and Mineta. Partially ducking, he sped around the building only to find himself trapped. His eyes danced desperately around him but he found only tall, disintegrating walls of sand, clay, and stone. They were too steep to climb, and probably far too slippery.

The tall, crumbling walls partially encircled him, and a dark, looming statue of a man with a jackal's head cast its shadow on him. Bakugou felt a sharp chill spark in his spine despite the heat as the figure regarded him from its pitch black throne. The thunder of hooves grew louder behind him as he turned, yanking a dagger from his waist holder. He would die armed. He ripped his gaze away from the statue to face the oncoming horsemen who were nearly upon him, steeling his resolve.

The entire group came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the statue. Their faces blanched as their horses reared in shock, eyes white in panic. Foam spat from their mouths as the riders yanked the reins sharply backwards, whipping their heads around. They all shouted in a haze of mixed phrases and petrified cries. They seemed to be terrified of something, wrenching their horses in the opposite direction, not even pausing for the mere second it would take to shoot him down. Bakugou could only watch in shock as their horses bolted, and in less than ten seconds they were disappearing behind the crumbling, aged walls of the ruins.

A few seconds passed as Bakugou's heart pounded thickly in his chest. His heavy, ragged breathing momentarily stealing his voice.

"The… the fuck?" Bakugou managed, lowering his dagger. They just… left? He slowly put his dagger back in its holster, his thoughts racing. Did they think he had something else on him? A bomb?

The cold, icy chill in his spine intensified, and he spun around to face the statue again, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. The eyes on the jackal were glowing a vivid red, and the figure took on a lifelike element that set off all his warning bells. He would swear he could see the faint lines of wisping smoke emanating from the creature's mouth, its eyes hissing like hot embers. He took a few steps backwards, the air around him becoming unstable and unreal, his mind wildly certain the statue would at any second gain the power to stand up and chase him itself.

Whispers sounded in his ears, and Bakugou jerked his head from side to side to try to pinpoint the noise. The ground began to rumble underneath him, and he cursed as he rapidly stepped backwards. Sand began flying out from the ground in small geysers, some of them just barely missing him.

"Fuck!" Bakugou grit, running from the statue. He didn't believe in this kind of shit. The curse upon the city, the magic that the soldiers and passing travelers said it had held. They were all myths meant to entertain the weak of mind or the bumbling drunks around the campfire late at night. But here, now, Bakugou was struck with the feeling of sudden uncertainty.

The whispers behind him became louder as the sand started to spit and shake with more ferocity. An unearthly bellow shook stone and dust from the ruins as the wind began to whip and howl - snapping and grasping at his hair and clothes as he ran out of the city, now eerily empty save for the few dead souls who regarded him with blank, vacant expressions.

...

Watching from atop a cliff, Shouto kept a close eye on the skirmish below. The garrison had been successfully wiped out, and they had lost only about 30 of their men in the process. He watched somberly as the rest of his men galloped out of the city to regroup, no doubt fearful of the lurking power of Hamunaptra. The amount of men they lost was a small price to pay to keep that power and the city a secret. He readjusted the reins in his hands as his horse shuddered and pranced in frustration from standing still. Shouto placed his hand soothingly on his neck and the horse calmed.

"There is one still alive!" A man exclaimed.

Surprised, Shouto looked up from his horse and saw that sure enough, a single remnant of the paltry garrison was escaping from the city. His hair was blonde and wild, and he had a fierce expression on his face. Shouto had watched this one during the battle, and he had grudgingly assented he was a force to be reckoned with, having fought hard and without fear.

The man beside him who had initially noticed him was stirring up his horse in preparation to follow. He was stopped only when Shouto grabbed his reins.

"No… don't bother." He dismissed. He had watched this man, even if the others hadn't, and he would risk no more of his people. "The desert will kill him." He assured, watching the escaped fighter. As though he could sense he was being watched, the man turned and locked eyes with Shouto.

They were fierce, angry eyes. Shouto could feel their heat even from here. The man scowled and made a sharp, neck cutting motion before breaking his gaze and disappearing into the desert.

"I am not so sure." His one soldier said uneasily.

Shouto couldn't stop the small, amused smile that crept onto his face.


	2. The Library

It was quiet; the nice kind of quiet. It was the way all libraries should sound: silent. It made it easier for him to work, and considering the mess he had to clean up, it was much appreciated.

"And here we have "Sacred Stones"... "Sculpture and Aesthetics"..." Izuku murmured, balancing himself on the library ladder.

Leaned up against the bookshelf, he meticulously replaced the books that a few passing scholars had requested earlier. After reading from a few select pages, they had thoughtlessly left them on the table in a nonsensical order; the poor bindings stressed from being left open to a few select pages, stacked mercilessly and with no thought given to their upkeep.

Trailing his fingers along the tattered spine, Izuku let his mind wander and his eyes trace the faint gold leaf markings on the title before turning it to inspect the pages once more. Old, paper thin, and crumpled. It was sporting a few dog eared pages, which drew a low stream of tutting from Izuku as he gently folded them back into place. Giving it a few soft pats, he placed it delicately back in its correct position, and promptly did the same with its sister.

In Professor Aizawa's museum, he was allowed to read as many books as he liked, so long as he kept them in perfect condition and replaced them in perfect order. Which, for Izuku, was an absolute given and a very small price to pay for access to some of the rarer books in the museum's keeping. He could be incredibly clumsy, but he would argue that he did particularly good work cataloguing and maintaining the collection.

"Socrates, Seth…." Izuku muttered, placing them in line. He ran his fingers against the cool wood of the ladder as he sorted them through in his head before he placed them in their designated spot. He had read a few of these. "What a nonsensical arrangement." He chastised, chuckling softly. "Volumes one and two…." His eyes followed the line of books before he found what he was looking for. "Ah!" He smiled, tucking them away. He looked back down at the remaining book in his arms.

"Tuthmosis?" He exclaimed, regarding the book in mock horror, "And just what are you doing here?" He looked over his shoulder, spotting the golden placard that marked the 'T' section. It was on the other side of the aisle, but he could reach. He smiled, biting his tongue slightly as he reached over the aisle to fit it into place.

The ladder protested loudly, whining at the unnatural change in weight. Izuku snapped back to clutch the lifeline, letting out a breath of frustration. The ladder was heavy, and there was no point in climbing all the way down just to tip it to the other side when he could so very easily do it from here. Humming softly, he reached again, tipping his body just a tad further. Right as the tip of the book touched the edge of the shelf, Izuku felt the ladder suddenly shift drastically, nearly sending him tumbling down the bookshelf.

Izuku yelped as he struggled to correct himself, pushing the ladder forward with his arms to lean it back into place; but the ladder weighed a ton and his move was wholly uncoordinated. He was forced to resort to making desperate jerking motions to keep himself from falling twenty feet down onto Professor Aizawa's very nice, very hard, solid wood floors. The ladder tipped and tilted, and they went back and forth in a small dance until Izuku found himself standing in the middle of the isle, perfectly balanced on the now straight ladder, his and its weight supported only by the two stilts.

"Ha...Oh gods….help." Izuku breathed desperately as he felt the ladder slowly fall off balance. In one last desperate move, he wrenched the ladder towards the original bookshelf, his eyes squeezing shut as he slammed into it.

Upon impact, the shelf screamed and groaned as the entirety of it swayed over, banging into the next shelf...which hit the next one...and the next one… Izuku scrambled from the top of the shelf in a panic, one arm reaching out towards them as though he could will them to stop. It was like a terrifying game of dominoes. Each blow sounded off another slap of thunder as books and papers and articles wildly littered the air.

As the last case fell, completing the circle of fallen units, Izuku was too shocked to stop himself as he turned to face Professor Aizawa as he entered the room, letting a small "Oops." brush past his lips as an explanation.

Aizawa let his gaze follow the entirety of the fallen bookshelves before turning to rest on Izuku. "Oops…?" He parroted, kneeling down to pick up a small stack of papers.

"It...It was an accident." Izuku managed, surveying the utter destruction around him. There were books scattered in every manner of being - pages crushed and folded, bindings snapped the other direction, pages ripped out and littering the floor. It would take weeks to assemble the loose articles and unattached booknotes with their correct owners.

"This…" Aizawa spoke slowly, "Is a catastrophe." He let the papers in his hand fall back to the floor, and Izuku watched as they mixed with the rest of the jumbled pages. "I should fire you. Don't know why I haven't."

"I…" Izuku felt a pang of undescribable emotion hit his heart. "F-fire me…? Now wait…" He couldn't stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth. "I-I'm useful! I can read and write ancient Egyptian, I can decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic, and…"

Aizawa waved his hand in dismissal, silencing him. "I put up with you because your father Toshinori was one of this world's finest archaeologists, that's why. Both him and his wife."

Izuku opened his mouth to protest but was silenced again as Aizawa glared at him with his dark, tired eyes. They had an angry glint in them. "I don't care how long it takes…" He started, measuring a pointed finger at him, "And I don't care how you do it," He motioned to the whole of the library, "But clean. This. Up."

Izuku nodded his head quickly even as Aizawa turned and stepped out of the room. He let out a long sigh as he looked a little hopelessly around him. Scanning the room, he unbuttoned the cufflinks of his white, long sleeve shirt, and rolled them up just above his elbows. He was wearing a beige vest as well, which he may have to remove later if he got too hot… but for now he simply straightened it, and his mouth pinched in a solid, determined line. He bent down and reached for the closest stack of papers.

\- An hour later…

Straightening his back, Izuku let out a long, exhausted groan as he stretched his arms over his head. He looked down at the work he had done, and had to bite back a small whimper. He hadn't been able to right the bookshelves (they were much too heavy), but he had started to try and make sense of the scattered cloud of papers on the floor.

So far he had only successfully restored eleven articles, which wasn't so bad except he had at least a thousand more to go. Hopefully the majority of them were only missing a few pages or had fallen in the general vicinity of their respective bookshelves, but he couldn't exactly put them away without the shelves righted... He had tried to rearrange about a hundred of the heavy volumes, and they were stretched out on the tables in a bare semblance of their original order.

"One thing at a time…" He chanted under his breath, "One thing at a time…" Bending down to continue, he startled when he heard whispers coming from what sounded like the arrival room. It was attached to the library, but inaccessible to the general public.

Tilting his head, Izuku regarded the door. Only he and Professor Aizawa were supposed to be in the museum at the moment as it was closed for the day. Izuku spared a quick glance down the hallway where Professor Aizawa had departed over an hour ago before he began cautiously making his way towards the doorway, setting the papers gently down on a table as he passed.

"Hello?" He tried calling out. His voice was soft and unsure, and his uncertainty grew as he grasped the wide arching door handle. The door creaked as he opened it slowly, peering inside.

The room was massive, towering columns looming in all four corners of it. The door archway was surrounded in hand carved stone moldings, which amassed and decorated the entirety of the room. Viewing lights had been pointed in various areas around the space, the cone lights shining up the walls to create large shadows, which added drama. The area was used to hold a variety of artifacts that hadn't been either approved or given space on the main floor yet.

Intricate chairs painted and carved in the Egyptian style, various tablets with hieroglyphs carved into them, and even some larger displays; one featured a life size statue of an important political figure in the All Might era. It portrayed a lone, red haired man man atop his horse cart, whip in hand as he urged his horses faster. He had a fearsome, cruel, expression on his face. The lighting in the room cast deep lines under the fake man's eyes, and the figure's dark, lifeless gaze sent a shudder down Izuku's spine.

"This isn't funny…" Izuku called out again, tearing his focus away from the display. Nobody answered. Gritting his teeth, he slowly made his way through the room, peering behind artifacts and glancing across glass cases. His hands trailed on some of the relics as he passed, the stone tablets cool and gritty to the touch. His fingers traced golden wings and symmetrical figures in various poses.

Despite himself, his mind drifted away from the noise he heard earlier as he got lost in the history. His steps echoed as he walked, and he felt unnaturally loud in the large room, the brief clips of his shoes announcing his presence to the souls that still slept in their coffins. Izuku worried at his lip, pausing to study a newer arrival of papyri to take his mind off of his silly paranoia.

He had only been looking for a moment when a soft shuffle ripped Izuku's gaze from the display case. His head whipped in the sound's general direction. "Professor Aizawa? Are you in here?" He tried again, louder. The noise had come from around one of the larger sarcophagi. His stomach doing a small flip, Izuku tried to quiet his steps as he slowly walked over.

Izuku took a deep gulp as his hand slowly grasped the side of the sarcophagus, the cool chill spreading through his fingers to his chest. He peered over.

" ** _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!_** " The mummy residing in the sarcophagus shrieked and sat up, reaching for him-

Izuku _screamed_ , stumbling backwards, his back crashing up against one of the large stone tablets. His knees buckled and he nearly fell to the ground as his shriek reverberated through the huge room, nearly deafening in its intensity.

His fear melted away when he heard laughing.

Kirishima's head popped over the side of the sarcophagus, his body convulsing in the throes of laughter. Izuku felt his face fall as Kirishima continued to snicker as he got his now shaking legs underneath him. He strode forward with every intention of chewing him out.

"Have you no respect for the dead?!" Izuku demanded, watching Kirishima nonchalantly put the decaying mummy back in its former resting position.

"Of course I do!" Kirishima chuckled, folding his arms over the side, "But sometimes I'd rather like to join them." He winked, his smile turning mischievous.

"Well do it before you get me in trouble with Professor Aizawa!" Izuku snapped. He looked past Kirishima to the mangled remains of the mummy. "Oh, gods…" He groaned, "If he knew you were playing with the artifacts, much less the mummies-"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Kirishima assured confidently. "Besides, I thought you were leaving soon anyway. What's wrong with having a little fun?" He rested his chin on his hand, staring at Izuku thoughtfully. "Did you get your letter back from the academy yet?"

Izuku gave him a withering look at the less than subtle topic change, but he let it slide. "We're not done discussing this." He promised, before breaking eye contact and wringing his wrist. He sighed loudly. "They rejected my application at the Yuuei Academy again." Izuku said quietly, shaking his head. His fists tightened as he recalled reading the letter. "They said I didn't have enough experience in the field-" He shook his head adamantly, "But I probably know more about Egypt than half of the applicants who go there-" He felt the stream of words let loose even as Kirishima tried awkwardly patting him on the shoulder in reassurance. "If they would just give me a chance I could prove that I more than qualify to-"

"Hey, hey, listen." Kirishima cut him off, giving a fond smile before continuing, "I think I've found something that will cheer you up." He patted down his shirt pockets, fumbling a little to find the right one.

"Oh, Kirishima, you know I always appreciate when you bring stuff back for me to look at but...eh..." Izuku cringed a little as he thought of the line of 'priceless treasures' Kirishima seemed to always bring him. They were all either fake gimmicks, or legitimately worthless.

It was the equivalent of a cat bringing dead mice to its owner. But… Izuku's cat never brought him dead animals. Izuku's expression soured as he considered it. What did that make Kirishima?

"Found it!" Kirishima exclaimed, procuring the item in question. It looked like old, tinged gold in the shape of an octagon. A line of hieroglyphs striped the center, and two sitting figures graced either side, like two opposing halves. There was also writing on the sides, but Kirishima snapped it back playfully when Izuku leaned forward, curious. He tossed it back and forth in his hands. "And I'm ten times better than any cat; including your precious Ochako." Kirishima chastised, smiling crookedly.

Izuku snorted as he snatched the box from Kirishima's fingers, dancing backwards to keep it from being reclaimed. He felt a small prickle of heat in his cheeks at having been caught muttering again. "Don't let her hear you say that." He murmured, slowly turning the box in his hand.

He ran his fingers along the old, metallic material. Could it be gold? It had to be, considering. That alone would make it valuable, but it was the hieroglyphs that intrigued him. His thumb wiped away imaginary dirt on the markings as he slowly read them. His eyes widened slightly at their implication. Izuku let his fingers trail the lines, the surface smooth save for the slight indents of the engravings. It was an interesting piece, but what could it have been part of? It spoke of a key to a separate object of significant importance, but the shape suggested it was holding something of great value as well…

His fingers caught on a small bump, and he frowned slightly as he turned it over. A piece of a hieroglyph that was jutting outwards. The imperfection was purposeful, but he couldn't understand why. He worried at it, his heart catching as it popped inwards. A brief second of uncertainty flashed through him as he panicked, thinking he had damaged the artifact, before the top unlatched and flipped open in a loud snap. Izuku very nearly dropped it in surprise. The metal pieces were triangular in shape, and with the box open, the surrounding edges gave the illusion of looking like the sun.

Kirishima leaned over, eyes trained on the object. "Please, Izuku, tell me I've found something."

"Kirishima…" Izuku breathed, peering into the center of the box. He slowly reached in and delicately extracted a folded piece of ancient papyrii. His green eyes met Kirishima's, sparkling with excitement. "I think you've found something."

\- _Professor Aizawa's office_

It was early evening now, the light a soft orange as it filtered through the windows. Aizawa's office was decent in size, fitting a wall length bookshelf on the one side, and a large, worn mahogany desk facing away from the high windows. Historical pieces and artifacts were scattered all over the room on various open surfaces. Some were for show, while others were still being catalogued; easily distinguished for the brown tickets that had their item number on them. It was crowded, but not messy, and Izuku loved every opportunity to go in and look around the professor's work space.

"And if you look closely there," Izuku said, highly animated, "You'll see the cartouche there; yes, it's the official royal seal of All Might, I'm absolutely positive." He was pacing the office floor, one hand on his chin, the other waving in the air.

Aizawa sat disinterested in his old, plush leather chair. He regarded the box in his hands with disinterest. He placed it down quietly on his desk, looking back up again to see that Izuku's pacing wasn't slowing down. He tapped his finger in a slow, leisurely rhythm.

Kirishima was straddling a chair off in the corner, watching Izuku with a huge grin on his face. "Hold up," he said, patting the top of the chair in excitement, "Who is this All Might person," he looked at Aizawa, and lifted a mischievous eyebrow, "And was he rich?" Aizawa's answering stoic expression just seemed to impress him even further, and Kirishima directed a huge smile at him in response even as Izuku babbled out the answer.

"He was the second pharaoh of the 19th dynasty." Izuku quickly piped in, ignoring the other two's exchange. He chuckled at Kirishima's eagerness, and matched his smile. "Said to be the wealthiest and most powerful pharaoh of all."

Kirishima nodded in approval as Izuku turned heel and strode over to the front of Aizawa's desk, leaning over and extracting the box from its resting position. He fumbled it in his hands as he found the jutting hieroglyph and pressed it, snapping the locks open to reveal the contents. He pulled out the papyrii even as Aizawa's expression remained neutral, and carefully unfolded it. He handed it to Aizawa, pointing at the painted markings.

"I've already dated this. It's a map, almost 3,000 years old." Izuku tapped the upper corner. "And if you look here… well, this hieratic… It's Hamunaptra." His eyes went up to meet Aizawa's, who was regarding him with a very unusual expression.

"Izuku," Aizawa started tiredly, his tone gentle but firm, "We're scholars, not treasure hunters. Hamunaptra's a myth." He raised a hand even as Izuku began to splutter out an objection, silencing him. "Listen to me. Your father wouldn't want you to-"

Izuku inhaled sharply, standing up straight. "My father isn't here." He clipped, smile fading. "I've heard all about the blather regarding the city and the curse that supposedly protects it. If my father weren't forced to retire, he would have wanted to investigate this." Izuku shook his head adamantly as Aizawa looked to dispute him. "My research has led me to believe that this city actually existed-"

"Are we talking about the Hamunaptra?" Kirishima butted in, twirling in his seat.

Izuku turned to look at him, wringing his wrist. "...Yes. The City of the Dead." He bit at his lip as he looked thoughtful, distantly tracing the lines of books on the small shelves surrounding the room. His fingers caught his chin as he muttered further, the words lost under Kirishima's excited rambling.

"Yes! Where the early pharaohs were said to have hidden the wealth and great magic of Egypt." Kirishima laughed, speaking outwards. He motioned vividly with his hands, "In a huge underground treasure chamber!"

Aizawa sighed heavily even as Izuku scoffed, his pacing having restarted.

"Oh, come on you two, you both know the story," Kirishima whined, leaning forward lazily in his chair, "The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand on All Might's command. The city would sink beneath the sand dunes, taking the treasure with it." He laughed, wagging his finger at them. "Now, I don't know about you two, but I've got a couple of shovels in the back of my car…"

Izuku turned, disbelieving, "It's going to take a lot more than shovels to dig up the city if the whole thing is undergrou-"

"Hey! Careful with- _WHOA!_ " Kirishima screeched, knocking his chair over.

Izuku turned to see the map was still in Aizawa's hands, but it was dangling precariously close to one of his large desk candles. In just a split second, the whole sheet was set ablaze. Izuku let out a small cry as he scrambled over, nearly tripping over his two feet as he yanked the map out of Aizawa's loose grip in desperation to stop the flames.

"Oops." Aizawa said calmly.

The fire licked at Izuku's hands and he yelped as he was forced to drop it, clutching his singed fingers. Kirishima quickly started to aggressively stamp out the flames when the map hit the floor, and a few reeling moments later the fire was successfully put out.

There was a few seconds of absolute silence as all three of them regarded the tattered, badly burned piece of papyrii on the ground between them. It was now sporting several shoeprints.

Izuku knelt down, holding his seared fingers against his chest. With his good hand he picked up the map by a single corner. "You've burnt it…" He stated numbly, "You've burned off the part with the lost city."

"It's for the best, I'm sure." Aizawa said simply, rolling backwards in his chair and standing. He walked around the desk and bent down slightly to inspect the charred map Izuku held lightly in his grip. "Many men have lost their lives in the pursuit of Hamunaptra." He regarded the map for a few thoughtful seconds before he tapped on Izuku's forehead, drawing his eyes to him. They were wide and shiny, the emerald green reflective in the afternoon light. Aizawa let out a huff of air and patted Izuku on the head. "Most have never returned. Now lets drop the subject."

Izuku was incapable of forming a coherent sentence as he dazedly watched Aizawa straighten and walk back over to his desk, collecting papers and throwing them into a folder. Kirishima was likewise stunned, shifting his attention back and forth between Aizawa, Izuku, and the crisp remainders of the map.

"I'm leaving for the day." Aizawa said simply, plucking his jacket from the nearby coat hanger. He tossed it over his shoulder, the folder tucked under his other arm. Izuku was still on the floor, and Aizawa's statement was slow to process as he suddenly regained his senses.

"Hey… W-wait! Professor Aizawa!" Izuku called out, his arm reaching for the retreating figure. He hissed when his burnt fingers hit the air.

Aizawa merely waved, already closing the door behind him. "Get those burns taken care of." He said simply. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment. "And finish cleaning the library." he snapped as an afternote. With that, the door clicked shut and his footsteps slowly faded off.

Izuku turned to the ruined article in front of him. It was unusable now, destroyed. They would never be able to find the lost city now, this could have truly been the only link to Hamunaptra.

Kirishima walked over and bent down next to Izuku, prying the map from his hand. He held it up in the air with an exaggerated hum. "Yup, that's well and truly destroyed." He asserted blandly.

Izuku bit back a small cry. "I-I really don't need to hear that."

Kirishima gave him a good natured pound on the back. "Don't worry, I think I know what to do."

Izuku looked up skeptically. "What can we possibly do? It's been burned off, there's no way-"

"Shhhhhh," Kirishima hushed, shaking his head. "Not precisely. I think I know someone who can help."

"Who?"


	3. Cairo Prison

"I-I don't know how I feel about this…" Izuku stuttered, struggling to stay behind Kirishima as they plowed through a mass of people. They were making their way through the busy Cairo city crowd, the streets lined with merchants and shoppers all haggling for an assortment of wares. Kirishima on more than one occasion had to stop and politely pull Izuku away from the more enthusiastic sellers, their arms strung with bright, jeweled necklaces and watches.

For all of his brother's efforts, Izuku was too nice for his own good; flushing and holding up his hands in surrender as the salespeople pulled him every which way in an attempt to get him to buy something. There was no such thing as a 'quick' walk in the marketplace with him.

The circuit was always changing, but the majority of shops had a theme. Brightly colored, hand woven rugs and clothes lined the doorways and shop entrances, providing sparse patches of shade. Pottery in every shape and size littered the ground, which was a severe tripping hazard for Izuku, who took extra care not to cause an accident. He laughed as Kirishima nearly tripped over a wandering hen, as loose chickens were bumbling across the pathway, pecking through the wisps of hay that lined the ground with little care to their surroundings. For the sake of time Kirishima ended up tucking his brother underneath his arm and barreling through the crowd, giving him no chance to stop. In just a few minutes, they were through the worst of the market, and Kirishima let Izuku go in an exaggerated gasp.

"I hate…" He gasped, breathing heavily on his knees, "Going through there with you."

Izuku blushed, hovering by Kirishima's heaving figure. He knew he was really bad in the marketplace. There were lots of stuff to see, and everyone there was really insistent. He had brought along a thick journal that contained all his notes and theories about the famous egyptian All Might Era, in hopes that the appearance of him holding something would deter people, but it hadn't helped much. That and he personally loved to slowly comb through the antiques. On more than one occasion he found something worthwhile to bring back to the museum.

"Ah...Sorry." Izuku said softly. He meekly scratched his cheek in embarrassment. "Sometimes it can be a little difficult to pull away."

Kirishima straightened, stretching his back. He glanced over at him. "I suppose there's nothing wrong with being nice, but you should assert yourself more with strangers." He patted him on the back with a small chuckle, and grandly motioned in front of them. "In any case, we've reached our destination!"

In front of them was the large archway that led to the Cairo prison. The people around them were avoiding it like the plague, giving the prison a wide berth as they walked past. It had two large, heavy wooden gates for the entrance. Thick iron bars wrapped around the sides to bolt them into the walls. The prison's outer defensive wall looked like it was slowly crumbling, sporting several 'U' shaped dips on the top. Two very cruel, mousy looking individuals stood guard on either side of the doorway, looking disinterested. They were both armed, heavy rifles slung across their shoulders. The one on the right had a half smoked cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a nasty looking scar on his cheek.

Izuku felt his mouth fall open.

This wasn't at all what he had in mind when Kirishima said he knew someone who could help. Instead he had rather imagined they would be visiting another professor or a site specialist. There were plenty of archaeologists lurking in the city of Cairo. Just... not this particular part of it. Izuku himself had never wandered this far from the market, as the locals always spoke ill of the place. What had his brother gotten into? He made tepid eye contact with one of the guards. They had taken note of their presence, and he saw their eyes narrow at their approach.

Izuku blanched. "I thought… you said…" He stuttered, watching Kirishima boldly walk in front of him. He appeared utterly confident, not in the least intimidated by the guns. Izuku stuttered after him, frozen in place. Were they supposed to be here? Was he just horribly lost? He had to know this was the Cairo prison. It was nicknamed 'Hell on Earth', and it held the lowest of the low scum, and the most dangerous of criminals.

He had met some of Kirishima's friends before, and wasn't so naive that he wouldn't believe some of them could earn a spot in one of the cells, but generally his brother didn't mix with his less tasteful friends around him.

Kirishima waved and winked at the guards as he approached, a huge, beaming smile on his face. The guards weren't very impressed, and the one smoking gripped his rifle a little tighter, rolling the cigarette in his mouth. Concern for his brother's safety sprung him to action. Izuku lurched forward and grabbed him by the arm, stopping him.

"I thought you said you got the box from a dig down in Thebes." He hissed in his ear, glancing warily at the guards.

Kirishima shrugged. "I may have stretched the facts a little bit." He started forward again before Izuku stopped him once more.

"You lied." Izuku breathed, mouth open in shock.

Kirishima chuckled, drawing his arm from his grip. He patted him on the head in affection. "I lie to a lot of people for many reasons, what makes you any different?"

"I-I'm like a brother to you!"

Kirishima laughed and strode forward. He called out over his shoulder, "That just makes you more gullible!"

"Kirishima!" Izuku whispered sharply after him. He hesitantly followed, taking small, uncertain steps. If they started shooting he wanted a head start.

The guards straightened as Kirishima stopped in front of them. "The hell you want?" The one man whipped. He hoisted his rifle up halfway, as if to prepare to fire. He spoke in heavily accented english, and his nose pinched up in an angry snarl. While the guards didn't look like they were heavily built, there was no question they would willingly mow them down. Izuku felt a thrill of fear. This was it, Kirishima was going to finally get them both killed.

"I have an appointment with the warden." Kirishima answered, unfazed. "He should have mentioned I was coming."

The two watchmen traded looks with each other, and the one tipped his chin up at Izuku. "Who is this?"

"My associate and best friend, Izuku Midoriya." Kirishima announced proudly, stepping aside in a mock introduction. Izuku forced a small smile on his face and half heartedly waved, clutching his journal to him a little tighter.

"Warden did not mention a second." The man growled suspiciously. He adjusted the grip on his rifle and sized him up. Izuku felt a cold, slimy chill go up his spine as the guards gaze wandered shamelessly over him. He didn't get this kind of attention often, but it was enough for him to grit his teeth together in indignance. The guard seemed to reach a decision, and he smiled.

"He can wait out here." The guard drawled, grinning. He looked over at his other companion and they both laughed. Izuku felt Kirishima stiffen slightly next to him.

"If I go in, he goes in." Kirishima said firmly, his smile dropping only slightly. Anyone other than Izuku may have not noticed it, as good as his brother was in playing up a smile. Izuku tensed as he waited for the guard to react.

The guard huffed, appearing unconcerned at his tone, and let his rifle hang back on his shoulder. He didn't seem like he cared enough to argue. Izuku tentatively let out a breath of held in air. This whole ordeal was shaving years off of his lifespan.

"The warden will decide." The guard said simply. Turning to the gate, he pounded on it sharply, three times in succession. There were a few shouts before heavy locking noises went off. The door howled as it was slowly opened, the sand grating underneath it. Nodding happily to the two watchmen, Kirishima nonchalantly walked next to Izuku, shoulder to shoulder, as they passed the pair. Izuku could feel their gazes boring into him as they walked past, and he felt a little shudder when his back was turned to them. Looking around the prison interior, his eyes widened.

The prison was surrounded on all sides by the tall walls, formed into the shape of a circle. The walls widened out in the lower half, until it formed into a building that was large enough to host the inmates, who were penned in by thick, rusty iron bars. The prison was obviously old and ill maintained. Despite the hideously obvious flaws, however, the design was effective.

The inmates appeared to be sorted in no easily recognizable order. They all looked disheveled and poorly clothed, dirt and sweat mixing into a filthy sheen that cooked under the hot sun. None of them had to have seen a shower in months, maybe even years. The courtyard was filled to the brim with guards,a majority of them playing cards or other gambling games. Very few appeared to be actually doing work. Some of them stopped what they were doing to glare and him and Kirishima as they walked past. Izuku made a point not to stare, keeping his gaze above them. In the center of everything was a tall wooden hanging rack, which he would wager was well used.

Izuku reached up and pulled at his collar. He felt sorely out of place, and he wished he'd worn something different. He stuck out like a sore thumb with a white cufflink shirt, beige vest, and oxford slacks and shoes. Then again, he had been thinking he was meeting other fellow archaeologists. Had he known the prison was their destination, he may have dressed less like a studying professor and more like a casual city-dweller.

Kirishima led them to a cell on the left side, and waved to someone on the far wall.

"There he comes now, good chap." Kirishima said cheerily. He rested his hands in his pockets, seeming perfectly at ease. Izuku looked up to see there was a large man making his way down off the rampart. He could only assume it was the warden, as the guards made way for him as he descended down the stairs.

"So where, exactly, did you get this box?" Izuku demanded. He felt his gaze kept getting drawn to the hanging rack, and his stomach did a small flip. He didn't like it here.

"I borrowed it from a bar down in Casbah." Kirishima said casually, not making eye contact. Izuku's eyebrows drew in as he scanned his face suspiciously. A lot of what Kirishima said had double meaning, and his eyes narrowed as he pondered that statement. The realization hit him, and his eyes widened, and he pointed his book at Kirishima accusingly.

"Y-You stole it from a drunk in Casbah?!" Izuku exclaimed. A few of the guards turned their heads at his shout. He waved off Kirishima, who was desperately trying to hush him.

"N-Now, Izuku, this may not be the best place to go over the finer details…" He whispered desperately, scanning the guards around them.

Izuku was about to chastise him about his criminal activities, and yes he would do it in front of the guards, so help him; before a loud, booming voice cut them off. The two of them looked to see a large, oddly dressed man standing in front of them. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You must be Kirishima."

Kirishima smiled warmly, stepping in front of Izuku as he offered his hand. The man took it heavily, shaking it with incredible vigor. The warden nodded approvingly when he mirrored his enthusiastic grip, but the heavyset man didn't return the smile.

"Yes, yes, I've been expecting you." The warden said simply. He glanced at Izuku curiously, but didn't say anything as he motioned them towards the holding cell in front of them. It was up against the prison walls, and had a sturdy looking door inside of it. No doubt how they got prisoners in and out of it without having to move them through the courtyard.

The warden waved at one of the guards standing by who had several bruises on arms, a fresh black eye, and a severe looking gash on his forehead that looked like it was still in the middle of healing. The guard scowled angrily at them both before ducking inside a side door that led into the inner wall. Izuku blinked after him, and the air was suddenly filled with tension.

"So...What is this man in prison for?" Izuku said hesitantly, staring at the cell in trepidation. He had no idea what to expect through those cell bars. Kirishima mixed with the most interesting of riffraff, and this man had apparently found himself a spot in prison. The guards that were watching them before were now looking on with avid interest, some of them inching forward to watch. Was this prisoner well known through the prison? He swallowed thickly.

"I did not know, so when I heard you were coming, I asked him that myself." The warden said, leaning up against a nearby rail post.

"And…" Izuku prompted, "What did he say?"

The warden looked at Izuku and smiled, huffing out a single laugh. He looked resigned. "He said-" motioning towards the cell, "He was just looking for a good time."

Izuku turned his head towards the cell, following the faint sounds of yelling and banging that were suddenly rising from the wall interior. Kirishima whistled softly, wincing in sympathy at Izuku's incredulous expression. The banging got louder and louder until the door finally slammed open, and a group of four bruised and bloody guards nearly fell out, pulling and fighting a single man in between them all.

Izuku had jumped when the door had been smashed open, the force having almost been enough to knock it off its hinges. He looked on in shock at the scene before him. The prisoner had a vicious expression on his face, and was fighting the guards with every step they took. The prisoner managed to land a few well placed blows before they finally threw him to the ground on his knees in front of the prison bars. The man had shackles on both of his wrists, but it apparently hadn't done much good, as all four of the guards were actively bleeding in some way or another. The warden took a few steps back from the cage.

The prisoner had a good amount of stubble on his chin, and long, unkempt blonde hair that nearly reached his shoulders. He glared at him and Kirishima with piercing, angry red eyes, his mouth locked in a snarl. He was well built, his muscles taut in preparation to fight, and Izuku felt a little faint at the thought of being on the receiving end of the man's punches.

"This-This is the man you stole it from?" Izuku said weakly.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, nodding.

"Katsuki Bakugou." The warden announced, raising an eyebrow at Kirishima.

Bakugou spat in the warden's direction, and one of the guards quickly clubbed him over the top of his head. His head banged up against the bars, but instead of looking in pain, he turned back slightly to give the guard a death glare.

"And just who the hell are you?" Bakugou growled at Kirishima. He looked over at Izuku and gave him a once over, sneering. His gaze lingered on his oxford shoes and pressed vest. "And who's the runt?"

"Runt?" Izuku echoed faintly, looking to Kirishima.

Kirishima cleared his throat, stepping forward. "This is my adopted brother, actually."

Izuku nodded, standing up a little straighter. "How do you do?" He said politely. If everyone else had suddenly forgotten their manners, he surely wouldn't.

Bakugou harrumphed, tilting his head in a sneer as he considered him. "Yeah? Well, he doesn't look like a total loss."

A solid red blush lit Izuku's face. "Wha-What is that supposed to mean?" Izuku questioned loudly, stepping forward. Kirishima held him back by his arm, hushing a few apologetic words that Izuku barely heard.

The warden next to them was listening intently, turning only when there was suddenly shouting behind them in the distance. He yelled back, craning his neck towards the commotion. The answering yells were in Arabic, and he cursed under his breath. He looked remorsefully at the cell, acting as though he were about to miss out on a good show. "I'll be back in a moment." The warden said, glancing at the pair as he reluctantly half ran across the courtyard.

This was their chance. Izuku shook off Kirishima's grip on his arm and inched forward. "We've, uh, found your...uh…" Izuku started awkwardly. The words caught in his mouth. Was there really any way to phrase it without framing Kirishima as a thief? Should he lie and say they found it on the ground, or that it was sold to them? His mind raced and he struggled to find the fitting vocabulary. It didn't look like his audience, Bakugou, was paying any attention to him, however; instead opting to glare at the guards behind him.

"Yes, uh… Excuse me? Hello." Izuku questioned, trying to gain back his attention. Bakugou slowly turned his glare back on him, and Izuku gave a small smile. "Yes, we uh… both found your… uh, puzzle box, and we've come to ask you about it." As soon as the words left his mouth Izuku mentally struck himself. He could have phrased it a little more subtly, but hopefully the man had been so drunk he wouldn't question it, or at least he wouldn't remember being pickpocketed.

"No." The blonde said immediately, face deadpan.

" _'No'_ …" Izuku repeated, face falling slightly.

"No," Bakugou affirmed, leveling his gaze with Izuku's, "You've come to ask me about Hamunaptra."

Izuku started, looking around anxiously to see if anyone had overheard. He inched just a little bit closer, keeping his voice just above a whisper. "How...How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?" Izuku asked curiously, his voice barely audible above the prison background. His heart beat a little faster in excitement.

"The hell do you-" Bakugou clipped angrily, barely stopping mid sentence as a guard clubbed him. He hissed as he rubbed the back of his head. Izuku glanced up at the guards, who apparently didn't appreciate their prisoner's cursing. That or his tone. In fact, Izuku mused, they may be actively looking for reasons to physically abuse their charge. "Because that's where I found it." Bakugou finished, his tone barely concealing his irritation as he glared at the guardsmen behind him. His look promised retribution.

At this, Kirishima stepped forward, going right up to the prison bars and kneeling to Bakugou's height. "And how do we know that's not a load of pig swallow?" He asked accusingly.

Bakugou eyes narrowed as he looked at him, and he pointed a finger in his direction, nose pinching up in the beginnings of a snarl. "Don't I know you?" Bakugou demanded, contemplating him.

Kirishima laughed nervously and waved his hand aside, shaking his head. "No, no… I've just one of those faces." He said dismissively, smiling.

A mere millisecond after he finished talking Bakugou's face lit up in recognition. Before anyone was able to react, his hand shot out and grabbed Kirishima's collar, and slammed his face mercilessly into the iron bars.

Izuku jumped as Kirishima reeled backwards with a pained yelp, his nose already bloody as he stumbled and fell to the ground in a jumbled heap at his feet. The guards simultaneously struck Bakugou with their clubs with quite a bit of force, but his face looked anything but remorseful. If it hadn't been for the bars, Izuku didn't doubt Kirishima would have gotten far more than just a bloody nose.

His brother was still rolling on the ground, nursing his injury. With care, Izuku casually stepped over him, hopping a little to place himself in front of the bars. Bakugou watched with amusement as Izuku bent down, his eyes wide and shining with excitement. "You say...You were actually at Hamunaptra?" He breathed, eyes sparkling.

Bakugou lifted an eyebrow and leaned in closer. "I just fucking decked your…" He looked down at Kirishima, who was slowly trying to get up. "...Adopted brother."

"Yes, well," Izuku dismissed, "He gets into trouble often. It's not the first, nor I think the last time he'll get...er, decked."

Bakugou snorted. So maybe the runt wasn't as timid as he'd initially thought him to be. He smirked with newfound interest. "Alright, bookworm. Yes, I was at the city."

"You swear?"

"Every fucking day."

"Ah, that's...Not what I-" Izuku stuttered.

"I know what you meant." Bakugou cut off. "I was at the city. Seti's place." He rolled his eyes as Izuku nodded, encouraging him to finish. "Otherwise known as the 'City of the Dead'." His tone was dripping with sarcasm, and he couldn't keep from rolling his eyes. The freckled scholar was far too excited at the mention of its more commonly known name. Bakugou still didn't believe in any of that nonsense, despite what he thought he saw. Dehydration and a hot sun does crazy things to a man's head, that he knew for certain.

"What did you find there?" Izuku prompted, kneeling down to Bakugou's height and fumbling to open his journal in front of him. He procured a pen out of seemingly nowhere and started frantically scribbling in the margins. Bakugou watched in mute amazement as the small scholar started muttering to himself and flipping through the many pages of the book. It had a collection of notes, and drawings of… ancient Egypt? There were also various papers and letters that were carelessly waxed to the interior. If Bakugou didn't know any better, he'd swear all of the writing didn't look to even be in english lettering. Before he was able to discern it better, two vivid green eyes caught his questioningly. Izuku held his now unmoving pen in his hand in preparation.

Bakugou waited a moment before answering. "Sand." He said blandly, "And death." The muttering bookworm was close enough to the bars that he was able to tap on the journal pages. "Make sure you underline the word sand." He added sarcastically. Izuku was stunned enough that he waited a beat before slowly jotting down the three words. At least… Bakugou watched him write. He was right, it wasn't in english. Instead, it looked like a bunch of tiny pictures… hieroglyphs? Who the hell wrote in hieroglyphs?

"I...see." Izuku said slowly. He didn't look very put out, chewing at the top of his pen. He hummed to himself and drew a few more pictures before turning back to Bakugou excitedly. "Could...Could you tell me how to get there?" He asked hopefully.

Bakugou blinked slowly, looking Izuku over. Small build, short, had probably never fired a gun before. Hell, had probably never held a real weapon before. He'd probably last a day in the desert heat, maybe less. His one hand had bandages on it, but Bakugou would bet money that it had nothing to do with fighting. He'd probably never thrown a punch in his life.

"You?" Bakugou asked, laughing.

"I mean," Izuku looked around, spotting the warden still arguing with a few men behind them. He leaned in closer to Bakugou and used his bandaged hand to cup the side of his face so his words weren't overheard. "The exact location."

Bakugou smirked at the excited glint that was lighting Izuku's eyes. The sun illuminated his tousled green hair and soft freckles. He leaned in close and raised an eyebrow, feigning his best innocent expression. "You want to know?" Bakugou asked quietly.

Izuku had to lean in closer so that he could hear him. "I...yes, I do."

"Do you really want to know?" He asked again, tilting his head slightly as though contemplating Izuku's resolve.

Izuku moved in even closer, so that his face was but a foot away from the bars. "Yes...I really do." He breathed earnestly.

Bakugou beckoned him closer with a crooked finger, until Izuku was a mere breath away from the bars. In one quick motion, he grabbed Izuku's chin and yanked him forward, crashing his mouth against his.

Instinctively, Izuku tried to jerk back, but Bakugou's grip was like steel, and held him firmly against his lips. Strong, calloused fingers held him in place like that for a few seconds before he disengaged the kiss, keeping ahold of Izuku's chin so that their gazes were level.

"Then get me the hell out of here!" Bakugou growled, his fierce red eyes burning into him. Izuku could only stare in shock, unable to process what had just happened.

The guards immediately yanked Bakugou backwards onto his feet, freeing Izuku from his grip. In a swiveling motion, Bakugou disengaged the one guard and sent him flying towards the bars. Izuku stumbled back as a full on brawl broke out in the cage, with Bakugou being in the center of it all. In short, violent movements, he managed to down three more guards before a team of five men burst through the back door, barely managing to wrestle him back through.

"Do it, runt!" Bakugou shouted, before finally disappearing behind the swarm of guards. Izuku could still hear their shouting as the cage door was wrenched shut behind them. He looked over at the warden, who had returned. A few moments of opening and closing his mouth before he was able to find his words, he pointed at the now empty cage.

"Where...Where are they taking him?" He managed to wrestle out.

"To be hanged." The warden said simply. "Apparently, he had a very good time."

Izuku turned to protest, but the warden was already headed towards the large wooden hanging rack. He grabbed Kirishima, who was now partially standing upright and dabbing at his nose with a soiled red handkerchief. "Kirishima, they're going to hang that man." he said desperately.

"Good riddance." Kirishima said nasally, tilting his head backwards. He pinched his nose shut. "Though I'll say, the man's got a killer grip."

Offhandedly, Izuku was about to agree with him before his cheeks caught fire at the implication. He didn't think Kirishima had seen what had just occurred, as he was too busy groveling on the ground, and it might as well stay that way. Izuku nervously tapped his fingers on his lips. "Nevermind all that. Without him we'll never find the city." He said decidedly. Whether he was trying to convince his brother or himself, he wasn't sure.

Maneuvering past Kirishima, he went in the same direction as the warden had, determined. He ignored the odd looks he got as he walked briskly by the gathering guardsmen. With any luck Kirishima was following him, but he didn't look past his shoulder to check. He skipped a couple steps as he bounded up the side stairs to the main platform, murmuring a few apologies as he brushed past several people. Reaching the warden, the man fixed him an amused smile, and gestured at the chair next to him.

"Front row seat." The thickly built man said grandly, patting it. Izuku waged an internal war before hesitantly sitting down next to him. In front of them was the main prison wall. Hundreds of the malnourished, ill washed prisoners were gathered to the front of their confinement, shouting expletives and other foul words in both arabic and english as the guards dragged Bakugou onto the hanging block.

Izuku nearly tipped over in his seat as he craned forward to watch. They had now seven men on him, and had tightly bound his arms together with rope behind his back. They had even taken the time to gag him, and Izuku briefly wondered why until he saw the vicious bite marks one of the guards was sporting on his arm.

As though he knew Izuku was there, Bakugou's angry gaze almost immediately found him. He broke contact to look over at the warden. "I will give you a hundred pounds to save this man's life." Izuku said quickly. The guards on the block must have heard him because his statement was immediately met with taunts and jeers. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

"I would pay a hundred pounds just to watch him hang." The warden laughed.

"Two, then! Two hundred pounds!"

The warden motioned for the guards to continue.

"Three hundred!"

He was ignored. Izuku watched as the hangman slung the noose around Bakugou's neck and yanked it tight, drawing a loud growl from Bakugou. The hangman watched him with a measured expression before he waved the guards off the block, so that it was just them. The prisoners around the rack were getting louder now, urging the proceedings to go faster. Rocks and other items were being thrown. Most fell short of the block, given the distance, but some of them actually reached the lower pegs of the platform, and they bounced off.

"Any last requests?" The hangman asked Bakugou, adjusting the knot.

Bakugou glared at him, the gag still firmly in his mouth.

"Ah…" the man said knowingly. He unwound the gag and tossed it. "Now?"

"Loosen the knot and let me go." Bakugou clipped.

The hangman appeared at a loss for words. He turned to the warden and shouted in Arabic. The warden reeled back. The question must have stunned him, because he had to process it for a split second before shouting back. Izuku knew only a few of the words, but they were very colorful. He split his gaze between the two arguing men, wishing he had taken the time to fully learn the local language.

"Of course we don't let him go! Proceed!" The warden yelled tiredly, finishing in English. He turned to the guards around him and waved his hands around, exasperated, speaking to them in Arabic. He had to be complaining. The other men seemed to share his opinion, nodding mutely.

The hangman, furious, turned back to Bakugou and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Five hundred pounds!" Izuku shouted, getting more desperate. There were a few choice cries from the courtyard at his offer. Kirishima was going to kill him when he found out how much he was willing to give. In for a penny, in for a pound, Izuku reasoned. Appearing suddenly interested, the warden quickly waved at his men, halting them. A few curses could be heard from below. The warden turned to Izuku, his eyes holding an unfamiliar glint. He smiled lecherously.

"And what else?" The warden said softly. He reached over and placed one of his hands on Izuku's upper thigh. "I am a very lonely man."

Without hesitating, Izuku slammed his heavy journal on the man's wandering digits. There was enough force behind it that he released Izuku's leg immediately, hissing from his stung fingers. Booming laughter echoed through the courtyard, and some of the guards doubled over in fits. The warden's face became tomato red, and he looked like he was about to explode. He glared angrily at Izuku before turning to the block.

" _Taqadam!_ " He shouted.

Izuku stood straight out of his chair, knocking it loudly to the floor. "No!" He yelled, watching in horror as the hangman reached for the lever. In one jerking motion, he slammed it backwards, the mechanisms screeching in protest. The trap doors beneath Bakugou's feet swung open, and he immediately dropped, the rope playing out until it snapped short. Izuku felt his heart stop, staring in horror until the hung man's eyes met his once more, still very much alive and angry. The rope was impossibly tight around his neck, and his teeth were bared and grit together in a growl as he fought to breathe.

"Ah!" The warden shouted, motioning towards him in exasperation, "His neck did not break! Now we have to watch him strangle to death."

The noise around the courtyard grew into a loud roar at his words as prisoners and guards alike shouted in a mix of excitement and anger. Izuku could only watch, helpless, as Bakugou gagged, his struggles getting weaker by the second. A sudden thought flitted through his head, and he turned to the warden, heedless of the guards around him.

"This man knows the location to Hamunaptra." Izuku stated boldly.

The warden looked skeptical. "You lie." He hissed back.

"I would never." Izuku gasped.

The warden pointed to Bakugou, looking at Izuku speculatively. "Are you saying this filthy, godless son of a pig knows where to find the City of the Dead? Truly?"

Izuku nodded quickly, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Bakugou was turning several shades of red. "Yes," Izuku promised, knowing his time was running out, "and if you cut him down we will give you...ten percent."

"Fifty percent." The warden countered, scoffing.

Izuku wasn't dissuaded. "Twenty."

"Forty."

Izuku hesitated, biting his lip. "Thirty."

"Twenty five!"

"Ha!" Izuku exclaimed, pointing at him. "It's a deal!"

The warden realized his mistake and groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose even as he waved to the hangman. "Cut him down!" He shouted. Izuku was beaming. The command was carried out immediately, the hangman swinging his scimitar and cutting the rope in two with one strong stroke.

Bakugou fell to the ground, landing powerfully on his back. He inhaled once deeply, coughing as he groaned and rolled over. Finding his footing, he struggled to his feet to glare up at the rampart, frowning at the proud, beaming expression on the wannabe professor. The nerve of that runt was unbelievable, taking the time to argue over percents while he was choking to death.

Bakugou felt someone tugging on the ropes that held his arms, and instinct nearly drove him to spin around and take them out, before he realized the ropes were being effectively cut. The guard that freed him stepped back quickly, and Bakugou gave him a black look as he flexed his hands, feeling the rush of blood quickly pool back into his numb fingers.

From above, Izuku watched Bakugou yank the cut noose from his neck, throwing it on the ground in anger. He shuddered when the blonde's fiery glare caught his again, and he found he couldn't tear his gaze away until he was clapped soundly on the shoulder. He jumped to face his brother, wincing a little when he saw Kirishima's face was still a bloody mess.

"What did I miss?" Kirishima said dumbly, looking around in confusion.

Izuku laughed a little, pulling a handkerchief from one of his inner pockets to hopelessly dab at the dried blood on his brother's face. "Everything. But don't worry, I've secured us our guide."

Kirishima leaned over the railing, groaning audibly when he saw Bakugou. "Wonderful."

"And now," Izuku said, turning to the warden, "We're going to need a boat."


	4. River Cruise

It was early afternoon the next day at the Giza city dock, crowds thick and loud as Izuku and Kirishima made their way through. In the distance, the three pyramids of Giza loomed over them, proudly stretching into the sky. Everything from fancy cruises to simple sailboats drifted idly in the reflective water of the Nile. The dock was a hotspot for tourists and explorers alike, with men hauling large crates, barrels, and trunks into their ships. There were even animals. A few pens with chickens were being handed off, and some men were boarding up fine looking horses and camels.

At one point, Izuku could have sworn he saw a jaguar off in one corner, half covered with an old cloth tarp. A few errant salesmen were weaving through the rabble, selling baubles and trinkets for the tourists. Izuku couldn't help but smile when he saw the hawkers barter off toy tombs and King Tut action figures. Despite their proximity to the real thing, the recreations were riddled with historical errors.

"Do you really think he'll come?" Izuku said, looking up at Kirishima. The boat was due to leave soon. He had to put his hand over his eyes to block them from the bright sun. Slung over his shoulder, the small carrier he had on his side mewled and shook in anger. Izuku shushed it and patted it soothingly. Ochako, his cat, was the only thing he didn't trust the ship's crewmen to load. Kirishima had protested he bring her, but the thought of leaving poor Ochako alone for possibly several weeks didn't sit well with him.

"Undoubtedly." Kirishima assured, offering a finger to the front of the carrier. Ochako, as irritated as she was, sniffed it and settled down. Kirishima smiled. "I know the breed. He may be a cowboy, but his word is his word."

Izuku looked at him skeptically, clutching Ochako's carrier strap a little tighter. "Well personally, I think he's very rude." His cheeks lit up a little bit as he remembered the kiss. "And a complete and total scoundrel." He added harshly.

"Anybody I know?" A voice lilted behind them.

Izuku and Kirishima turned to look at the speaker. Izuku was momentarily stunned. It was Bakugou, undoubtedly, but wholly different from what he remembered. The man had taken the time to properly shave and shower, his hair cropped to a respectable length. It was still wild looking, but the blonde was much more vivid after a good wash, and the edges brought attention to his intense, red eyes. Izuku fought the urge to step back. He remembered the man being quite muscular, but had he always been this tall? A few moments passed and Bakugou noticed him staring, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah...Um...H-Hello." Izuku managed, before being immediately overshadowed by his brother.

Kirishima excitedly grabbed Bakugou's arm, ignoring the slightly disgusted glare he received, and shook his hand. "Smashing day for the start of an adventure, wouldn't you say Mr. Bakugou?" Kirishima said jovially, winking when he added the extra formality. He patted Bakugou's chest good naturedly.

Bakugou didn't immediately respond, pulling himself from Kirishima's grip and staring him down warily as he checked his inner coat pocket to ensure his wallet was still in its rightful place.

Kirishima laughed, waving him off. "Oh, no, I never steal from a partner...partner."

Bakugou didn't look convinced. Sensing conflict, Izuku stepped in between them both, lightheartedly trying to diffuse the tension. "Well we've an awful long way to go with each other, so we should ensure we all get along, don't you think?" Izuku questioned, switching his pleading gaze between the two of them. As though personally voicing her protest, Ochako meowed again from her container, louder than before.

"Is that…?" Bakugou started, leaning down to peer into the carrier depths. Ochako growled from within. "Is that a fucking _cat?_ " He finished, disbelieving.

Izuku moved the carrier behind him defensively. "This is Ochako. I wasn't going to leave her."

Bakugou looked at him like he'd grown two heads. "Who the hell brings a fucking _cat_ on a dangerous journey through Egypt?"

"Ochako can take care of herself." Izuku said adamantly, clutching the carrier strap. Bakugou looked wholly ready to argue that, before Izuku cut him off, changing the subject. "Mr. Bakugou, I need you to look me in the eyes and guarantee this isn't just some kind of," he waved his hands nonsensically, "flim-flam, or what have you. Because if it is, I'm warning you now-"

He stopped abruptly as Bakugou suddenly stood over him, stepping into his space. "You're _warning_ me?" Bakugou said lowly, his voice dropping a few octaves. Izuku felt suddenly small, but he managed to nod.

Bakugou laughed briefly, stepping even closer so that he towered over him. "All I can tell you, sir," He hissed, "is that my Colonel found that map in an ancient fortress, and the whole fucking garrison believed in it so much, that without orders, they marched halfway across Libya into Egypt to find that fucking city. Like I told you before, all they found was sand and death." At that, Bakugou skirted around them, heading towards their boat. It was like a great weight was lifted from Izuku's chest as he regained his personal space. "Not my fault if that fucking cat dies." Bakugou called out over his shoulder.

Kirishima raised a brow at Izuku, who was still reeling from Bakugou's casual disclaimer, once he was out of earshot. "What was that about 'ensuring we all get along' or some nonsense?" He teased Izuku slightly, nudging him with his elbow.

"Oh, quiet." Izuku quipped, watching Bakugou board. "We weren't arguing in the least."

Kirishima hummed skeptically. "Whatever you say." He shrugged.

Izuku rolled his eyes. The man could be incredibly intimidating, and he knew it. If Izuku didn't make the boundaries clear, there was no doubt Bakugou would take advantage. After he unpacked, perhaps they could have a chat. Muttering to himself, Izuku didn't notice the large figure next to him until it was too late. The man bumped into him, Ochako's carrier taking most of the hit. She yowled as she was partially smashed against him.

"Beg pardon." The man said, tipping his hat, as he briefly turned to face him. Izuku's mouth dropped open in shock as he recognized him.

"What-What are you doing here?" Izuku exclaimed. It was the warden, and he was carrying a very heavy suitcase. Izuku's heart sank at the implication.

"Protecting my investment." The warden said simply, pushing past them. "Thank you very much."

Izuku groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to have to put up with that man anymore than he already had. Kirishima looked at him questioningly. "Did I miss something? Is there a reason why you dislike him?" Kirishima asked.

Izuku gave him a withering look. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

Beside him, Ochako was throwing a full blown fit in the carrier. She was never going to forgive him at this rate. He unzipped the front, briefly reaching in to pet her soothingly. She was a beautiful, long haired brown ragdoll, and her fur was smooth to the touch. At home, she made the perfect book-rest, and Izuku would spend long evenings with her curled up in his lap. While ordinarily she was sweet, Izuku would grudgingly admit she did have a stubborn side, and was more than a little spoiled. It was showing itself now as she yowled in complaint of her treatment. Withdrawing his hand, he went to re-zip the cover. The instant the opening was clear, though, she burst through the front of the carrier, bolting into the Giza port crowd.

"Ochako NO!" Izuku shouted, pushing around Kirishima. His adopted brother nearly fell over in a startled yell as Izuku blazed past him, chasing Ochako down the walkway. He could hear Kirishima shout startled protests behind him, but the words were lost. The boat was departing in a few minutes, and it would leave without them if he couldn't catch her in time. Ochako weaved through people's legs as she ran with seemingly no destination.

Izuku crashed into several people as he pursued her, knocking some men over. One stocky worker was hauling a large barrel when he clipped his shoulder, and Izuku quickly yelled out an apology, not stopping, as the man lost his grip and the barrel went flying. It smashed onto the ground, and a river of dead fish burst through, spilling onto the pathway in a tidal wave. A few people screamed, and others slipped on the mass as it spread. Izuku winced, hearing the yells and shouts behind him. Ahead of him, he could see Ochako's fluffy tail as she darted across the dock, and he blanched as he saw her target: A teriyaki chicken stand.

-Meanwhile

Bakugou lazily set down his weapon bag on a side table as he slowly surveyed the cruise. It was large, and it seemed like they would be sharing it with other people. It figured. The warden was, and always would be, a cheapskate. Hamunaptra or no, he wouldn't miss the chance to spare a few farthings. It'd be important to scope out who they'd be traveling with on the highly likely chance that they were boarding with treasure hunters. If they weren't careful they'd all wake up with their throats slit. Before Bakugou could take the chance to prowl, he heard a large uproar on the docks below. Turning over to the railing, his eyes widened as he saw the runt's figure barreling his way through the port crowd, leaving a wake of ruin behind him. In front of him was a small, fluffy brown animal. It looked like a cat.

"Are you fucking kidding me-?" Bakugou snapped. They hadn't even left the dock yet. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a pistol and tucked it in his back waistband. If the runt missed the boat they'd all be fucked over, adding several days to their travel time. That absolutely was not happening. He brushed past Kirishima, knocking into the man's shoulder as stormed off the boat, cursing.

Kirishima called after him, leaning over the railing. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, he's always had a touch of bad luck." Kirishima laughed nervously, watching in dismay even as Bakugou shouldered his way onto the dock. He was being ignored. "He'll be back in time to leave." He tried again, louder.

Bakugou didn't look like he would be so easily dissuaded, and Kirishima watched helplessly as he took off after his poor brother. He rubbed his nose absently, which still hurt from yesterday's punch. "Sorry, Izuku." Kirishima murmured to himself. "You're on your own with this one."

In a quick, steady pace, Bakugou maneuvered his way past the broken barrel of fish. There were a multitude of people who were gathered around the destruction, hurriedly throwing the fish into spare boxes, and picking up the broken wood pieces. Some other men were working to restack several sets of fallen crates. He marched through, ignoring the angry cries as he heedlessly shoved past them. Forty feet ahead, he saw the familiar head of wind tossed green hair shaking in dismay. There was a group of three beefy looking men who held him in captive audience. They appeared to be shouting.

Izuku shook his head, clutching Ochako to him. "I'll pay for the pieces she took, shouldn't that be enough?"

The men were all red in the face, the two not speaking a word of english. Izuku again berated himself for not learning the local language. Ochako had managed to jump into the food stand, and had wreaked havoc for a good half minute before Izuku quickly swiped her off the table. The leader, which Izuku could only assume was the owner, spoke English very brokenly, and he waved a fist at him angrily as he barked demands. "Hand the animal over - _Alssariq!_ "

Izuku tightened his hold on Ochako as he stepped back. Ochako didn't seem to mind his rough handling, chewing contentedly on her prize: a hot stick of teriyaki chicken. The men followed his movements, crowding over him as their rage intensified. The owner was wielding a large butcher knife in his other hand, which was most likely used for cutting the chicken strips, if his stained apron was any guess. He was waving it at every syllable threateningly.

Gritting his teeth, Izuku held firm. He knew locals didn't take kindly to stray, wandering animals that got into trouble. Ochako wasn't a stray, but that didn't change the mindset. On more than one occasion he had seen loose dogs put down or shot by local neighbors simply because their presence was a nuisance. They weren't touching Ochako.

"I'm not handing her over to you, it's entirely uncalled for. I'll pay for the ruined pieces, that is more than enough compensation for-" Izuku blanched as the owner charged forward.

Flinching, Izuku stumbled backwards to avoid him, his back hitting something solid.

The stand owner's eyes widened at someone behind him, but before Izuku was able to turn around, the unknown person roughly wrenched the neck of his shirt upwards, and he was yanked to the side like a scruffed kitten. He blinked in shock as regained his footing, staring above him to see a very angry looking Bakugou.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bakugou shouted. "The boat is about to _fucking_ leave."

"I- that is- the cat-" Izuku stuttered. Ochako growled halfheartedly around her food.

The stand owner started forward, shouting at them in Arabic before pausing as Bakugou pointed a single finger at him, his face volcanic. The butcher knife was apparently not very threatening to him. The hold on Izuku's collar tightened.

" _Alhusul ealaa allaenat min huna qabl 'an, 'atlaq alnaar ealayk al'ahmaq jadidatan!_ " Bakugou growled, shoving Izuku backwards in the direction of the boat. Izuku looked over his shoulder to see the owner's face was shocked. Whatever Bakugou had said, the man hadn't been expecting to hear it.

"What did you tell them?" Izuku asked, scrabbling alongside him. He didn't know the soldier was capable of speaking Arabic, but he supposed it only made sense. The majority of the men in prison most likely spoke only in their mother tongue. The stand disappearing from sight, a sudden realization occurred to him and he squirmed.

"Wait, I didn't pay them for the damages-" Izuku gasped, struggling to turn around. Bakugou's hold didn't lessen. He moved his arm up to try and dislodge the harsh grip on his shirt, but Bakugou kept a firm grasp on it, and continued tugging him along beside him.

"If you would please, _unhand_ me." Izuku demanded, digging in his heels. It didn't seem to have any effect, and Bakugou didn't respond, maneuvering them around the fresh chaos that was left in Ochako's wake.

They received several angry glares from a multitude of people as they passed, but none of the gathered workmen approached them. Their hesitation was undoubtedly on Bakugou's behalf. Izuku had to settle with giving them remorseful looks as they whipped by.

Bakugou unceremoniously released him when they reached the deck, glaring at the contented cat in his arms, who was still clutching the chicken strip in her mouth. " _Don't_ leave this ship." Bakugou ordered. Just at that moment, the boat horn blared, indicating they had five minutes until departure. They were standing right next to the sound when it went off, and the noise was deafening. Ochako startled violently in his arms, and he nearly lost his grip on her.

"I was perfectly capable of walking back here on my own, thank you." Izuku huffed, flattening Ochako to his chest as his ears rang. If she got loose again he had a feeling Bakugou would sooner throw her overboard than help him chase after her again. He thought of the strong hand grabbing his shirt. He had never been so roughly handled before. It was completely embarrassing, and it sent the wrong message. The term he had used earlier, 'scoundrel', filtered through his head, and he quickly decided to add 'brute' to the mix. Nevertheless, the better part of him reasoned, Bakugou had helped him and that warranted gratitude. Izuku tilted his chin up. "Thank you for helping me." He said politely, the words coming out more clipped than he intended.

Bakugou's eyes narrowed. It was like he hadn't heard him. "No less than five fucking minutes ago - five - I told you bringing that damn cat was a bad idea-" He started to argue, stopping only when Izuku abruptly turned heel, giving him his back as he strode across the deck to open the boat's interior door. He looked back to see Bakugou's incredulous expression as he paused in the doorway.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Bakugou, I will be unpacking." Izuku said curtly, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Nobody had ever walked off on him like that. Not while he was talking. Indignance flared to life in his chest. Who the hell did this runt think he- "Brat - don't walk away when I'm talking!" Bakugou shouted after him.

"If you're thinking you can make him choose between you or the cat, he's going to choose the cat." Kirishima cut in idly behind him. Bakugou turned and Kirishima held up his hands in surrender when he saw his face. "Just from personal experience." Kirishima added quickly, clutching his nose defensively.

Bakugou didn't respond, storming off to retrieve his gunny sack from the table he'd left it on. Upon turning the corner, however, he found that it had garnered a crowd.

"Need help?" Bakugou snapped, gaining their attention. It was a small group of four separate men; all of them comically different from the other. One was short and punchy looking, while the one next to him was tall and gangly. They were leaning up against the wall, smoking large cigars. The two sitting at the table around his bag looked a mite more intelligent. The one had a sharp round haircut and thin glasses, his face hardly visible underneath the book he was reading. The other was blonde and cocky looking, and met Bakugou's eyes unflinching.

Despite their differences, they all looked distinctly American, sporting cowboy vests and six round pistols on either side of their silver buckled belts. None of them appeared startled or intimidated by Bakugou's tone, the ones leaning against the wall opting to give him lopsided grins instead.

"No, sir." The short one drawled, puffing his smoke out in large circles.

Bakugou snatched his weapon bag from the table, nearly knocking over the glasses of whiskey they had resting on it. The cocky looking blonde merely gave him a large, knowing smile. Bakugou's gaze narrowed. Leaving the bag alone couldn't have been helped, thanks to the runt. He'd have to do a thorough inventory check to make sure nothing was missing. The blonde set off all his warning bells. Tossing the duffel over his one shoulder, Bakugou gave them one last piercing look before heading off to his own room. He had some unpacking to do as well.

\- _Night_

The Nile was distinctly quiet. They had gone pretty far out by now, and were likely the only boat on the water for miles. The moon wasn't quite full, but the Nile reflected its light nonetheless, and the surrounding landscape was decently illuminated as well. Tall reeds lined either side of the river in various stages of life. Some bowed deep under the surface, while others stood tall and healthy. The wind lightly rustled them, drawing forth the soft cry of insects. The boat, however, was not quiet in the least. It was brightly lit, and the Americans were being loud to the point of being obnoxious, yelling and drinking with each other over a game of poker.

Bakugou emerged from the boat interior, weapon bag across his torso, to find Kirishima in the middle of the ruckus, in possession of a decent amount of poker chips. The table was littered with cards and half full whiskey glasses. In the game were three of the four Americans, the only one not participating the bowl cut man with the glasses, who was still focused on his book in the far corner. Upon hearing the door open, Kirishima turned to give Bakugou a huge smile, waving him over with a large fan of cards in his hand.

"Come on over here Mr. Bakugou, and cash in on the fun!" Kirishima encouraged, setting his play of cards back down on the table. He took care to set them face down before taking the deck in his hands and mixing them in an excessively elaborate fashion. He counted out the cards and offered the set to him.

The tall, gangly looking American chuckled when Bakugou didn't immediately take it, leaning backwards in his chair until it creaked under the strain. "Come on, now, we could use another good player."

Bakugou would bet by the man's dwindling chip stack, he most certainly didn't. "I bet with my life, never my money." He said lowly, staring him down.

The cocky blonde from before stirred at this, raising an eyebrow from his place on the table. "Is that the case?" He droned, fingering through his cards. He placed an eight of diamonds face up in front of him, and there was a collective of groans. He smirked, looking up at Bakugou as he took another card from the card bank. "And what if I was to bet you five hundred dollars we reach Hamunaptra first?"

The smirk is what did it. The bait was deliberate, but entirely effective. Bakugou felt the challenge ignite in his chest as he flexed his shoulders back, mirroring the confident blonde's sneer. He didn't like this fucker, not one goddamn bit. "You're on." He snarled, tucking his hands in his pockets.

The American wearing glasses in the corner lowered his book, giving Bakugou a peculiar gaze. "And what makes you so sure, sir?" He queried, his tone contrastingly sincere.

"What makes you?" Bakugou countered.

"Well," The gangly looking American cut in from the table, "We've got us a man who's actually been."

Kirishima perked up at that. "I say, what a coincidence! We've actually got someo-"

At that moment Bakugou subtly, but powerfully, kicked Kirishima's chair from behind, effectively cutting him off and knocking him forward. Kirishima's elbows crashed into his poker chips and they all scattered on the table in a loud clatter. Kirishima seemed to immediately take the hint, hurriedly gathering his scrambled pieces and quickly restacking him. He had the good grace to look sheepish. "Ah, my bad - I can be as clumsy as my brother sometimes." Kirishima apologized with a shaky laugh, letting a remorseful smile light his face.

The cocky blonde American peered at him disdainfully from over his cards, watching in disgust as Kirishima dutifully reassembled his pieces. None of the rest of the table appeared to have noticed it was Bakugou who caused the accident.

Bakugou smiled, and it was acutely unsettling. He nonchalantly placed a strong, warning hand on Kirishima's shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou caught a glimpse of movement. Barely turning his head, he caught a fleeting image of the warden's large figure creep past the second level. "Where's your brother?" He asked calmly, and nobody but Kirishima seemed to notice the extra edge the question had.

"Uh, muttering to himself over by the camels, last I saw." Kirishima jittered nervously. Bakugou pounded him cheerfully on the shoulder before tightening his grip impossibly hard.

"Stay out of trouble." Bakugou dismissed happily. He harshly crunched Kirishima's shoulder between his fingers, making the threat impossible to misinterpret. Kirishima merely nodded mutely as Bakugou sauntered off towards the camels on the other side of the ship.

Izuku lightly tapped his mouth with his pen, contemplating his notes in comparison with the text he was reading. The main deck was being incredibly loud, and sitting near the camels was the only place he could be left alone while enjoying the fresh air. He sighed, skirting his finger among the body of the paragraph. It didn't add up. Why would all of the political figures from the All Might era wipe their real names from history? And how?

Sighing, Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked over at the horizon, resting his chin in his hands. It was beautiful. The boat's lights reflected in the calm water as it rippled beneath them. He traced the whirling patterns of light in his head as it lulled him. Izuku felt his eyes start to close as his exhaustion started to weigh them down. He could so easily fall asleep here…

 ** _WHAM!_**

Izuku nearly jumped out of his seat in shock, barely containing his yelp. A large duffel bag was thrown onto his table, the force having scattered some of his papers. His one hand clung to his shirt, just over his heart, as though he could keep it from pounding out of his chest. He looked up to see Bakugou smirking down at him.

"Didn't mean to scare you." Bakugou grinned, not looking in the least apologetic.

The only thing that scares me, Mr. Bakugou, are your manners." Izuku said primly, gathering up his scattered articles. He eyed Bakugou warily as he sat down across from him.

"Still angry about that kiss, then?" Bakugou questioned, unbuckling the duffel, "Or is it about this morning?"

A warm flush crept onto Izuku's face. "If you would call that a kiss…" Izuku muttered under his breath. He didn't mention the morning's incident. The guilt was still slowly eating at him. Ochako was sleeping off her food coma in his room below, having already found a prime spot in the center of his pillow.

Bakugou either didn't hear him or simply didn't respond, unraveling the buckle that held his duffel closed. It split, rolling open on the table. Izuku's eyes widened when he saw the contents. Revolvers, pistols, hunting knives, a massive elephant gun, and half a dozen sticks of dynamite were just some of the many weapons that lined the bag's interior. He watched in morbid fascination as Bakugou took out one of the revolvers and started dismantling it.

"Did… Did I miss something?" Izuku asked, setting his book aside. He reached over and pulled out a small, hook-like object from the lineup, tapping the sharp tip with his finger. "Are we going into battle?"

It was an impressive arsenal. Izuku couldn't name half of the objects that were resting in the duffel. When he was younger, Izuku would catch glimpses of his father's guns when he moved them to and from the safe, but he was never allowed close, and most certainly was not allowed to touch. The small, gutting weapon he held know looked like it could be grasped between the knuckles. He absently stroked the sharp curve of the steel.

Bakugou reached over and plucked the blade from Izuku's hand. "You're going to cut yourself." He hissed, tucking it back in its former place. "And as far as I'm concerned, we are." He resumed cleaning his gun, even as Izuku regarded him thoughtfully. "The last time I was there, everyone I was with fucking died." Bakugou clarified.

Izuku blinked before nodding in understanding. That was right, Bakugou had mentioned that before. Izuku absently traced the hem of the duffel bag with his finger, inhaling deeply. It would only make sense that Hamunaptra was defended in some way. "You never told me how."

Bakugou didn't answer right away, clicking the pieces of the pistol back together and grabbing the next one before speaking. "Assholes with horses. Didn't know who they were. Possibly Tuareg warriors." He smirked, disengaging the clip of the revolver. "Nobody you could handle, runt."

"Do you even remember my name?" Izuku accused, back straightening. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't think of a single instance in which Bakugou had addressed him by his name.

"Your name?"

"Yes, my name- if you'd ever cared to ask-"

"Midoriya Izuku." Bakugou cut off, sneering. "I fucking know your name, brat. I'm not a fucking idiot."

Izuku wasn't a very spiritual person, but he prayed to the gods now for patience. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth. "Well whoever those men were, I hope they don't make another appearance." Izuku hadn't thought of it much before, but he most likely wouldn't be very good in a fight. Bakugou scoffed, making a show of cocking the barrel back into place with a loud snap, swapping it out with the large shotgun.

Izuku watched him silently for a few minutes as he cleaned the gun barrel. He couldn't understand why Bakugou took the time to go and sit next to him. The boat was plenty big enough for him to clean his deadly menagerie elsewhere. Humming softly, Izuku reopened his journal and reviewed his notes quietly.

They sat like that for several minutes before a sudden thought occurred to him. "Mr. Bakugou." Izuku started gently. Bakugou gave him an irritated glance from his seat. "What do you think is in that city? Other than uh… sand and blood, of course." He added quickly.

"Bad fucking luck." Bakugou replied casually. "The Tuaregs and Bedouin believe that Hamunaptra is cursed. They call it 'The Doorway to Hell'. With the surrounding landscape, I'd say it's more of a fucking deathtrap."

Izuku smiled from his journal, twirling the pen in his fingers. Despite the man's gruff nature, he was actually rather intelligent. "Ahmar is Ossirion. It's more like a…. passageway to the underworld."

"Sounds like the same fucking thing." Bakugou clipped. He tried not to stare at the scholar's slender fingers as they danced around his pen. He was losing his fucking mind.

"In a few ways, I suppose." Izuku mused, scribbling in the margins. "I don't really believe in all the fairy tales and hokum surrounding the city, but I do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried there; The Book of the Living. It's what first interested me in Egypt as a child. It just kind of…." He looked off into the horizon, "Drew me here."

Bakugou snorted. "Right. And the fact that they say it's made out of pure gold holds no nevermind for you, right?"

At that, Izuku's dreamy expression snapped back to him. "You know your history!" He exclaimed, a proud smile lighting his face.

"I know my treasure." Bakugou corrected. The small scholar didn't seem any less happy at his correction, beaming to himself as he finished what he was writing, tentatively closing his book with a thoughtful expression.

Izuku leaned back in his chair, pulling his book and journal with him, setting them on his lap. He traced the book title in his fingers. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject that was still eating at his mind, especially with someone he couldn't quite seem to understand all the way through. He decided to be direct. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Oh, so now you call it a kiss?" Bakugou's eyes flicked up from the gun he was working on to meet Izuku's, the reds dancing in the low light, his hands not pausing in their work. Izuku flushed at the way his eyes pierced him. So he had heard him earlier.

"Well? Are you going to answer the question or not?" He pressed. He wanted to know why.

Bakugou frowned, eyes returning to the firearm in front of him. He clicked the barrel back and promptly replaced it before shrugging. "Was about to be hanged. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Izuku floundered for a moment before white hot embarrassment and anger mixed in his chest. He stood abruptly, nearly knocking down the chair in his haste. "You! You! You're a scoundrel, you know that?"

Bakugou met his eyes, looking unimpressed by the display. "What?"

Izuku huffed, his cheeks flaring even brighter before he finally turned heel and stormed off.

"What?" Bakugou yelled after him, watching as Izuku clipped past the corner. Why the hell was he mad? "The fuck did I say?" He yelled, disbelieving. He didn't get an answer, and he could only listen as the stomp of Izuku's footsteps gradually faded off. Frustrated, Bakugou slammed his shotgun on the table in a loud snarl. A mere moment later, he heard what sounded like a snicker.

Immediately, Bakugou yanked his revolver from the table, cocking the stop backwards. His eyes scanned his surroundings, instantly catching on an unusual shadow shaped like a head behind an errant stack of crates and supplies. Bakugou berated himself. Ordinarily he wouldn't let something so obvious slip past him, but the fucking starry eyed scholar was incredibly distracting.

Jerking forward, Bakugou reached past the crates and yanked the stranger out of his hiding spot with an incredible amount of force, pulling them backwards before slamming them into the stack of crates. Bakugou's eyes widened before narrowing into a silent snarl when he recognized them.

"M-My friend!" Mineta greeted shakily, sweating under the intense scrutiny, "I thought you were dead - I'm so very, very glad to see you're alright."

"Well if it isn't my little buddy Mineta." Bakugou drawled, lifting Mineta a little higher in his grip. He slowly looked him up and down, contemplating, before finally nodding. "Yeah. I think I'll kill you." He aimed the revolver straight at Mineta's chest, finger on the trigger.

"Wait!" Mineta screeched, "Thi-Think of my children!"

"You don't have any fucking kids." Bakugou hissed, digging the revolver barrel deeper into Mineta's torso.

Mineta seemed to process that, before looking at Bakugou sincerely. "Someday I might." He said quietly.

"Shut the fuck up." Bakugou growled, slamming Mineta into the crates again. He let out a little squeak of pain, flinching as the revolver once again bit into his chest. "I should've fucking known you were the one leading the Americans." Bakugou snarled. "So what's the fucking scam? They pay you, you lead them out in the middle of the desert and leave them to rot?"

"Unfortunately no." Mineta groaned, "The Americans are smart. They only pay me half now, half when I get them back to Cairo, so I have to go all the way."

"Well isn't that a fucking shame?" Bakugou sneered. He let go of Mineta roughly, nearly throwing him to the ground.

Mineta scrambled to his feet, his movements jerky as he shuffled away. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing. He looked up at Bakugou warily. "You never believed in Hamunaptra, Bakugou. Why are you going back?"

"I owe someone a debt, and unlike some people, I'm true to my word." Bakugou seethed. It would have been easier to just leave Mineta to die back at the city all those months ago. He couldn't think of a single redeeming quality he had that would warrant a reason for him to continue living. But if he shot him here outright, the Americans would get on his ass.

Mineta frowned at him, thinking, before his face lit up as he made the connection. "The green haired man with the cat." He blurted, eyes widening in recognition. He gave Bakugou a knowing glance. "More balls than brain it sounds like, eh Bakugou?" He laughed. "Not that I blame you- if it were me I'd-"

Bakugou seized Mineta, dragging him to the railing and violently throwing him overboard. Mineta hit the water with a loud smack, the resounding splash unusually loud in the quiet. Fuck the Americans.

"Good fucking bye, Mineta." Bakugou breathed, rolling the duffel bag closed and buckling it. He heard Mineta splutter as he resurfaced, splashing wildly in the water. Bakugou threw the bag over his shoulder to walk back to the front deck before he suddenly froze.

On the deck in front of him were large, wet footprints leading from the railing. Mineta was still thrashing beside the boat. It couldn't have been him. Alarm bells already blaring in his head, he bent down so the prints could catch the light and he could see them better. They were still relatively new. Bakugou cursed. Another fucking mistake. Whoever it was managed to literally sneak by right under his nose. At this rate everyone was going to get killed. Standing straight, Bakugou slowly followed the trail.

He swore richly. They led to the boat interior.


	5. Fire!

Izuku paced back and forth in his room on the lower deck. The sounds of gambling from upstairs could still be faintly heard through the floorboards, but it was muffled enough to still be peaceful. It was a shame he couldn't let in the wind. The two shuttered windows on either side of the room would normally be left open; but he had closed them to help block out the noise. That and so he could change into his nightclothes.

A cool breeze was what he needed, though. Something to help him think. But there was no way he was going back up on deck and risk running into Bakugou again. Izuku sighed, tiredly rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. The room was lit by a few scattered candles and dimmed gas lanterns that hung on the walls. He held his journal in one hand, muttering off dates and their corresponding literature.

"The 7th, the 8th… but then that means the pharaoh before had been successfully murdered, which doesn't make sense if they're both spoken as being the same thing-" Izuku rambled off. He unbuttoned his vest and shirt, slipping them past his shoulders before reaching down to repeat the process with his trousers. He hopped a little as he pulled them off and climbed into his long, slightly sheer cotton bottoms. It was warm, but breathable fabric.

Ochako watched him from her spot on his pillow, tail flicking absently as she idly dozed. She was used to Izuku's endless mutterings, and waited patiently for him to wear himself out. Izuku slung the trousers and shirt over his arm, still muttering as he reached to hang them up. He promptly missed the hanging rack, and they fell to the floor. Izuku continued his pacing, walking by as if he hadn't noticed. Running his hand through his hair, he stopped suddenly, throwing his journal down on the center room table with a loud smack while swiping his thin cotton nightshirt off the chair.

"Oh, come off it Izuku, it wasn't that good of a kiss anyway." He snapped to himself, whipping the shirt on. He fumbled with the buttons, silently fuming. The red flush hadn't quite left his cheeks yet, and the after image of Bakugou's red gaze after he'd demanded an explanation left him feeling a little flustered. It wasn't like he was attracted to him or anything, he just...

He struggled to think of a descriptor for his emotions. Nothing immediately came to mind, and he looked at Ochako's dozing form, exasperated. "I mean, he's not bad looking or anything, and he's not a moron either…" He bit his lip, his gaze narrowing. "But he is an asshole, isn't he?"

Ochako didn't move from her resting position, but she flicked her tail at him to indicate she agreed.

He sighed, moving his journal over from where he'd thrown it. He had laid the burnt map back on the table to examine it closer. While Hamunaptra had been burned off, the map in and of itself was still a valuable piece of history, and could possibly contain a few more unknown secrets. Izuku trailed the rough papyrus with his hands, inspecting the pictures in the soft candlelight. He hadn't told Aizawa where he was going. He hoped the disheveled professor wasn't too worried. While he was normally lukewarm and dismissive towards Izuku, he had an uncanny ability to stick his nose into his business.

Huffing, Izuku strode over to the bureau and grabbed his brush, hopelessly trying to detangle his wild mass of hair. He gave up after a few moments, pausing to look at himself in the mirror. His skin was very lightly tanned, despite how much time he spent in the library. It was near impossible to escape the sun in Cairo, no matter where you were. His freckles were a little more pronounced now than they were initially before he left home. He traced them with his fingers. He wasn't sure how he felt about them. Sighing, he set the brush back down on the side of the sink. It stayed for only a moment before tipping over and falling on the floor.

He looked at himself in the mirror indignantly before bending down to pick it up. When he righted himself, he looked back at his reflection and startled violently when he saw a second figure next to him dressed entirely in black.

Izuku inhaled a loud, ragged breath in preparation to shout in alarm, before the darkly dressed intruder slammed his hand over his mouth, throwing back against the wall. Ochako woke with a start, yowling loudly in the corner, her fur standing on end as she hissed, baring her teeth.

Squirming, Izuku struggled to free his mouth, his heart beating out of his chest. The hand covering it moved, only to be replaced by a knife that sunk into his cheek, nearly breaking the skin. "Where is the map?" The man growled. His other hand gripped Izuku by the neck, keeping him shoved up against the wall.

Izuku stuttered. The cloaked intruder was dark skinned, sporting two unusual tattoos on either side of his heavily chafed cheeks. His eyes were dark and unreadable. The blade sunk a little deeper, dangerously close to drawing blood. Izuku's mind started working in overdrive. "The... The map?" Izuku managed to force out. His eyes glanced over on their own volition to the center table where the map was laying, and the man in black followed his gaze, smiling crookedly when he saw it.

"And the key?" He grit harshly, his breath hot on Izuku's face.

Izuku was at a loss. A key? They didn't have a key - there wasn't one in the box. He started to panic as the blade started to scrape across his cheekbone. "A...A key? We don't have a key-" He breathed, his heart beating rapidly. The man in black didn't seem to believe him, and the hand around his throat started to tighten. Izuku grabbed at the arm, but he wasn't able to dislodge it.

Just as Izuku's vision started to star, his bedroom door slammed open. He nearly went weak with relief when he saw who it was.

"Midoriya!" Bakugou called out, charging through the doorway. His dark red eyes immediately trained on the intruder, and his body visibly stiffened. His hands automatically grabbed the two revolvers that were hanging from his hip holsters. In a blurring motion, The dark man hurled Izuku in front of him just as Bakugou trained his guns, the blade moving to his throat.

Bakugou's bared his teeth in a murderous snarl, his eyes narrowing. He didn't lower his guns. The intruder's blade pricked Izuku's skin, and a thin trail of blood ran down his chest. "Shoot, and he dies." The man threatened, shaking him as he said it. Izuku fought to keep his breathing under control even as the panic started to grip his chest. The cut on his neck wasn't deep, but it stung. There was a few seconds of standoff before he saw Bakugou's eyes flick down to the candle on the center table, just as the flame stuttered. One of the side windows opened, letting in a sudden rush of air.

Another man in black appeared in the opened window, a long gun in his hand. Pivoting, Bakugou shot several times in his direction, and the gunman's shots went wide as he fell backwards, dead. Izuku flinched at the sudden onslaught of gunfire. He'd seen people shoot before, but never this close; and it was loud. Some of Bakugou's shots had missed, bullet holes marking the interior wall, the wood splintering on impact. A gas lantern near the window shattered when it was struck, falling from its place in a burst of heat, bouncing off of the couch. Kerosene spilled all over the fabric, and it immediately caught fire, the flames billowing upwards and climbing up the wall and ceiling.

From her spot on the bed, Ochako darted off, a fluffy ball of absolute fury. She went straight for Izuku's captor - sinking her teeth into his ankle. The intruder shouted in pain, his leg automatically kicking out to try and throw her off.

Seizing his opportunity, Izuku reached for the candle on the center table, circling his fingers around the stem, and stabbing it backwards behind his head. Izuku had absolutely no idea where he was aiming, but he had apparently hit something; the shouts behind him turned to screams and he was abruptly released. Izuku turned around to see the intruder clutching his right eye, doubled over in pain. They took several wild steps backwards, crashing into the bureau mirror and shattering it. Shock struck Izuku in the chest, and an apology passed unbidden through his lips. Had he just blinded someone?

"Sorry!" Izuku blurted.

A strong hand grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards. "Move!" Bakugou yelled, dragging him away. The fire cast a hot glow on his face, and his eyes reflected the flames.

Izuku blinked rapidly, momentarily derailed, before another hooded figure appeared in the window. Bakugou roughly swiveled the dazed scholar behind him, shooting at the same time the other man did. The sound was even more deafening up close, and shots ricocheted across the room. Izuku yelped, grabbing the back of the Bakugou's shirt and ducking behind his solid frame as they skirted out of the room.

Rounding the corner, Bakugou snapped open the barrel of his gun and reloaded. There were shouts echoing across the entire boat now, and the flicker of flames could be seen from the other side of the cruise. Izuku followed closely, abruptly stopping as a realization hit him. He gasped loudly.

"The map! The map! I forgot the map!" He spun back towards the room, stopped only when Bakugou's arm banded around his waist, revolving him back towards him. He nearly fell into the heat of his chest, and the red flush from before returned with new fury on his cheeks.

"Relax - I'm the map." Bakugou whipped. He tapped the top of his head with the butt of his gun. "It's all up here."

"That's not really comforting." Izuku mumbled under his breath. Up close, the soldier smelled like gunpowder and musk, and it made his head swim a little.

Bakugou's red eyes narrowed slightly as he wordlessly released his waist only to grip his upper arm, pulling him along behind him. Izuku tripped a little, and when he looked down a touch of panic suddenly hit his chest.

"Wait - she was just here; where's Ochako?"

Kirishima breathed heavily as he ran through the interior hallway. There were strangely dressed, hostile men that had boarded the boat. The outer decks were already devolving into chaos, with fire having spread on the left side. He had already been shot at a multitude of times, but big brother code dictated he had to get Izuku, and that's exactly what he was going to do. That and if he returned home without him, he'd be a dead man regardless. Reaching his brother's room, he found the door was already broken open. Heart pounding, he rounded the corner-

Before a white and brown shadow flitted across his feet.

Kirishima squealed, flying forward as he tripped, smashing into another person in front of him. He quickly recovered, rearing backwards as he threw up both his hands in an impression of a fighting stance. The man he collided into was plowed headfirst into the side couch that was a raging inferno. On impact, the fire exploded outward, and Kirishima had to step backwards as the heat singed his hair.

When the blaze dimmed down enough, Kirishima was able to turn his head back over, his eyes widening in mute shock as he watched the intruder shriek as his clothes were blown up in flames from the blast. The entire room was quickly filling with thick smoke, and the fire was loud and blinding. Kirishima could hardly see through the smog as it stung and obscured his vision. Through the haze he was vaguely impressed with himself. Setting someone on fire, even by accident, was a first. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the light shadow from before dart past him into the room.

"Ochako?!" Kirishima cried out. Holy shit, that cat was a force of nature. Fearless, she darted to the center table, where she tugged at a book with her teeth, quickly dragging it over to him. Unsure of what else to do, Kirishima pried it from her mouth. It was Izuku's journal. His brother wouldn't have willingly left this behind; it was the culmination of all his research and theories.

A loud shout drew his attention back to the intruder, who whirled towards him. Kirishima quickly sidestepped as he charged him, tripping in his haste and landing on the rug, burning his hands as he slid, the journal nearly falling out of his grasp. A long stream of curses flew out of his mouth as he scrambled to keep his hold on it. If he lost it Izuku would never let him live it down.

The man was so engulfed in flames he didn't see his maneuver, and he blindly barreled into the wall behind him. Kirishima began to crawl away on his hands and knees in the most incredibly unmanly fashion - thank god nobody but the cat was here to see it - before a glint caught his eye. Just a few yards away from him, the pentagram shaped box sat on the floor, the fire reflecting on its surface.

"Ah!" Kirishima cried. That couldn't be left behind either. Nabbing it, he quickly shoved it in his interior pocket. A loud, angry shout sounded behind him and he quickly jumbled to his feet, scooping Ochako up as he went. She hissed in displeasure but didn't fight him as he bolted out the door, the inflamed intruder in hot pursuit. If Izuku wasn't in his room he had to be somewhere else on the boat.

"We can't just leave without her." Izuku gasped as he was pulled through the exterior door.

Bakugou easily hauled him forward, and pushed him against the side of the wall, his attention solely on the scene in front of them. The deck was in utter chaos. Horses and camels were being dragged from their pens, neighing and rearing when they saw the flames. Men were shouting and climbing the boat frame to escape the fire. The men in black appeared to be spreading the flames, with one throwing a torch into the camel pen, effectively lighting the bales of hay like tinder.

"I thought you said she could take care of herself." Bakugou replied smoothly, cocking the barrel of his gun.

Izuku scowled. Bakugou had auspiciously placed himself right in front of the doorway, preventing him from running back inside. "This is entirely different-"

"It's not. Hold this." Bakugou reached down to pick up his duffel bag and tossed it in his direction. Momentarily startled, Izuku caught it on reflex. It was far heavier than he expected, and it knocked out a little of his breath when it hit his chest. "Don't drop it." Bakugou smirked, maneuvering to stand next to him. He held the gun up by his head before he whipped it around the corner, firing a few rounds. Clutching the duffel, Izuku wasn't given the chance to cover his ears, and the sound made his ears ring painfully.

The return fire was immediate and double in intensity - it had to be more than one person, if Izuku was any judge. Bakugou moved back behind cover, reloading bullets into the revolver. The enemy fire didn't let up, and the wood splintered around them. Izuku flinched at each hit, and found his gaze find its way back to the interior door. If he dropped the duffel, he could go back inside, find Ochako, maybe even grab his journal-

"Don't even think about it, runt. I'll knock you out if I have to." Bakugou growled. Izuku startled, meeting Bakugou's angry glare. Was he that easy to read? He watched Bakugou warily, a small pit forming in his stomach. The odds of him being able to fight past Bakugou to go back inside were abysmally low, and the reality started sinking in. Maybe he was right, he shouldn't have brought Ochako.

Breaking eye contact, Bakugou spun open the revolver and reloaded before snapping it back into place and returning fire after the next flurry. The opposing gunfire was suddenly nonexistent, and before Izuku could process further, he found his arm being grabbed as he was again hauled behind Bakugou as they flitted across the deck.

They reached the railing, and Bakugou glanced over at the water before grabbing the duffel from Izuku's burning arms. He threw it over his shoulder with ease. "Can you swim?" He asked, looking Izuku in the eye.

"Well, yes, I can swim if the occasion calls for it- but I don't think-" Izuku cut off with a yelp as his feet were swept out from under him. Bakugou lifted him in a bridal carry, hoisting him up and dangling him over the railing.

"It calls for it."

He promptly dropped him, and Izuku was barely able to process what was happening before the cold bite of water slapped into him. The shock left him drifting deep under the water for a moment before instinct kicked in and he kicked his way to the surface, gasping when his head broke the water. He actually threw him over; he couldn't believe he actually just dumped him overboard-

"Heads up!"

A loud, resounding splash hit next to him, crashing into Izuku's face. Spluttering, he wiped the water from his eyes to see the duffel floating next to him. Izuku looked up at the boat to see Bakugou sneering down at him.

"I can't believe you just threw me into the Nile-" Izuku started to shout. He stopped when he saw a dark shadow off the boat side - right underneath where Bakugou was standing. His chest tightened and he started to swim after the still moving boat frantically. "Look out!"

At Izuku's cry, Bakugou's smile faltered as he swung backwards to avoid being gutted as the intruder swung over the side with a curved knife. They jumped over the railing in a wide fighting position. Changing pace, Bakugou surged forward and disarmed him in a harsh whirl, twisting their arm the wrong way. The blade skittered across the deck. Blocking a blow to his torso, Bakugou jerked his elbow up and caught the man underneath the chin, stunning him. Grabbing their shirt, he threw him into one of the side pillars with incredible force, knocking them unconscious.

Steadying his breathing, Bakugou glanced over the railing to see Izuku was still trying to swim after the boat. Trying and completely failing.

"Head for shore!" He bellowed. The boat was due to sink any minute. The green head bobbed ambiguously in the water. Izuku shouted something back at him, but he didn't get to hear it. Gunfire rang out around him, and his back automatically sought out the wall for cover. His hand floated above his hip. It sounded like the Americans were still clearing deck. It didn't matter anyway; the boat was a lost cause and he wasn't sticking around to risk his neck helping the other crew. It was time to bail.

A hand tapped his shoulder and he instinctively drew his gun, cocking the barrel back.

"Hold up - don't shoot." Kirishima spluttered. He held up his one free hand in mock surrender. In the other, he had Ochako tucked up against his side.

Bakugou slowly lowered his gun. Kirishima looked a mess. He was covered in smoke residue and his hair was disheveled and singed. "What the hell have you been doing?" Bakugou demanded.

"Looking for my brother." Kirishima replied, running a hand through his hair. "Please tell you've seen him."

Bakugou jerked his chin towards the water. Kirishima's eyes narrowed questioningly as he slowly looked out to where Bakugou indicated. His eyes widened when he saw Izuku's figure steadily swimming to the shoreline. "Oh gods."

"If you don't want to get shot I suggest you do the same." Bakugou deadpanned. He shouldered past him, knocking his way past a few errant crewman who were shouting and running across the deck, hauling bits of cargo away from the fire. Another hand found his shoulder and he spun to face the warden, whose face was red and slick with perspiration.

"We're in need of action!" The warden yelled frantically, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "What are we going to do? What are we going to-"

Bakugou grabbed both of his shoulders, holding him steady in front of him. "Wait here, and don't move." He said briskly, jabbing a finger pointedly to his chest. "I'll go and get help." With that, Bakugou hoisted himself over the railing and dived into the water below. Kirishima would have sworn he saw a glimpse of a sly smile on Bakugou's face.

"Right!" The warden called after him agreeably, nodding to himself.

Kirishima sped after Bakugou's vanished figure, leaning over the railing to watch him swim ashore. He made eye contact with the warden, catching on. The soldier was trying to ditch the warden. "I'll uh… go help him get help." He said tentatively. He scruffed Ochako, holding her stiffly to his chest. Oh, she wasn't going to like this. And if her yowls were any indication, she knew just exactly what he was about to do.

Taking a few wide steps back, Kirishima made a running leap to the rail before throwing himself over, crashing headfirst into the water. A few seconds later he broke the surface.

Ochako bolted out of the water like a demon, flying out of his grip and clawing her way up on the top his head. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!-" Kirishima cried out. She sunk her nails onto either side of his forehead, frozen in place as he drifted. Water cascaded down from her long, sopping wet fur and further blinded him. "Alright, alright, just stay there don't claw my face, please." He pleaded. He started swimming after Bakugou to the shoreline, careful not to further jostle Ochako from his head.

Izuku was already waiting for them at the bank, his arms crossed around his chest as he huddled into himself. He was still dripping wet, his nightclothes clinging to him like a second skin. The duffel bag lay next to him, wet and sandy from how he half dragged, half carried it over to where they ended up.

Bakugou reached the shoreline, and waded out noisily, the water splashing around his legs as he cleaved through. He took the duffel strap from Izuku, who was now shuddering from the chill. He eyed him carefully before abruptly looking away. "How deep is that cut?"

Izuku shakily looked up at him. "Cut? What-?" His hand automatically found the wound on his neck, and he rubbed it absently. "Ah, no. It's not deep, I'll be fine." When he pulled away his fingers though, they came back red. He blinked rapidly. Was it still bleeding?

"The water kept it from closing." Bakugou huffed. He threw the duffel back on the ground and gripped the hem of Izuku's shirt. Before he could say anything, he ripped a large strip off of the bottom in a single jerking motion.

"What are you doing?!" Izuku yelped, pulling away.

Wordlessly, Bakugou rung it out, getting rid of the excess water. He then folded the fabric several times. He grabbed Izuku's arm and pressed the cloth into his hand before pushing it up against his neck. "Hold this against it for fifteen minutes." He clipped. His tone didn't leave room for a reply. Turning heel, he retrieved the duffel bag from the ground and again threw it over his shoulder, keeping his back to him.

Izuku pressed the cloth against his neck. "Thank you." He said softly. Bakugou didn't reply, instead heading to the waterline to watch Kirishima struggle ashore. Izuku bit his lip. Was he going to ignore him now? Looking around Bakugou's figure, he caught sight of his brother's head.

"Ochako!" Izuku cried out, rushing over. She was quick to jump off of Kirishima's head, landing in his outstretched arms. "Oh, thank the gods. I thought you were still on the ship." He murmured gratefully, stroking her back. She looked half drowned, her long fur heavy and dripping liberally. He seldom saw her in this state; past all of the traumatizing experiences he had trying to give her a bath.

"Oh yeah, don't worry I got off just fine." Kirishima chimed in sarcastically, ringing out his shirt. "I'm sorry to make you worry."

Izuku gave him a sheepish grin. "You too, Kirishima. Thank you for getting Ochako."

Kirishima hummed agreeably. "That's not all I saved." He reached into his interior coat pocket. "I can't guarantee the water didn't get at it, but this pocket clips shut, so hopefully it's not too bad." He pulled out the journal. It was indeed wet, but not ruinously so. Izuku excitedly took it, settling Ochako to perch on his shoulder. He flipped through the damp pages. Most of what he wrote could be salvaged, as luckily he wrote in pen instead of pencil and the ink had not badly run. He grabbed the binding and fanned it outwards to help dry it.

"This is fantastic, but…" Izuku looked out to the Nile, where the barge was already halfway sunk into the river. "We've lost everything. All of our tools, the equipment…." He paused, his excitement visibly deflating. "All of my clothes."

"Speaking of uh… clothes, Izuku…" Kirishima started hesitantly, looking him over. He dipped out of his coat and shook it out, water still falling from it. He offered it to him. "Take this."

"Why?" Izuku questioned, accepting it slowly. He looked speculatively down at his nightclothes. If his cheeks had been red before, it was nothing compared to how they ignited now. The water had made the fabric startlingly translucent, and it was clung tightly to him, his skin on full display. His chest and legs may as well have been bare; the only thing actually covering him were his light green boxers.

Mortified, Izuku gasped loudly, rushing to pull the wet coat over him. Ochako was forced to jump from his shoulder, landing lightly in the sand by his feet. After a good amount of fumbling, he fastened it around him. "Gods, this night couldn't get any worse." He whimpered, gripping the coat tightly around him. Ochako rubbed herself against his calf reassuringly.

"I think it can." Bakugou said cleanly, moving in front of him. Loud splashing drew Izuku's attention, and he had to peer around Bakugou's figure to see what it was. Sure enough, the warden was making his way up the bank. He didn't look very happy.

"Wait and get help? _Wait and get help?_ " The warden shouted angrily, waving his fist as he struggled to charge through the knee deep water. "I ought to have left you on the rack, you _filthy criminal-"_

"Looks like the stupid bastard actually worked it out. Pity." Bakugou said calmly under his breath. He turned to face the warden as he finally worked himself out of the river, but kept in front of Izuku, blocking him from view. He threw up his hands in a half hearted, questioning motion as he smirked. "Why didn't you wait?" He drawled, loud enough for the warden to hear.

"I'm going to kill you, _sakhif alnadhl_!" The warden hissed, whipping his hands out at his sides in a hopeless attempt to dry them.

"Wait, please." Izuku said quickly, moving to stand between them. "This is bad enough as it is without us fighting-"

Bakugou whirled on him then. "Fifteen." He said sternly, glaring at him pointedly.

Izuku balked. "Fifteen…?" He was lost for a moment before he glanced down at the slightly bloodied cloth still clutched his hands. "Oh-" He pressed the makeshift bandage back against his neck, wincing only slightly when the laceration stung in response.

Bakugou turned back towards the warden. "I'd like to see you try. I'd put you on your ass, first swing."

The warden's face turned a dangerous red, despite the cold. If Bakugou kept goading him, they'd have a fight on their hands. Izuku moved forward again, reaching out to place a restraining hand on Bakugou's arm. The peacekeeping words he was about to preach were suddenly lost when a thin, reedy voice called out from across the river.

"Hey, Bakugou!"

The four of them all turned towards the sound, spotting the rest of the boat's occupants on the other side of the river. Camels and horses were being pulled away from the shoreline, large bags and crates thrown over their backs. Men were hauling the little cargo they could save out of the water and over the hill line. Next to the bank was a short, thin, sleazy looking character waving wildly at them. He cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Bakugou!" He bellowed, motioning to the people around him, "Looks to me like I've got all the horses!"

Bakugou strode up to the waterline, a sneer lighting up his face. "Hey Mineta!" He yelled, "Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the fucking river!"

At that, Mineta's smile fell as he looked back at the burning wreckage of the barge, almost completely sunk into the river depths, then turned to look at the landscape behind him. Though it wasn't audible, it looked like he cursed vividly, kicking the sand at his feet in anger. The men moving around him gave him a wide berth, staring as he threw his small fit. The Americans looked to have made it as well; the blonde haired one equally as soaked as the rest of them, an angry scowl on his face. He marched up to Mineta and started yelling something at him, the words just low enough that they were unintelligible from the other side of the river.

Bakugou let out a low chuckle, smirking. "Fucking idiot." Being on the wrong side gave them an incredible head start. It would take at least a whole day for the other party to find another way across, which bought them enough time to regroup and get new mounts.

Kirishima turned questioningly towards Bakugou. "What? Can't they just swim back over to the right side?"

"Their camels likely won't let them." Izuku piped in, still shuddering from the cold. He ran his hands up and down his sleeves in an attempt to warm up. "While camels can surprisingly swim, they aren't very keen on it. It'd take more time to move them back over then than it would to find another way across." He remembered the information from Aizawa, who had been discussing travel by camel back with another visiting archaeologist. The man hadn't believed him when Aizawa said camels were fickle, stubborn creatures, and several months later the archaeologist had returned with a particularly nasty bite scar on his right shoulder.

The warden kicked the sand angrily, muttering a few choice curses in Arabic. "I paid for some of those camels." He fumed, watching them haul away.

Laughing, Kirishima nodded sagely, reaching over to pound Bakugou good naturedly on the back. "Another way across, huh? Looks like our five hundred is still within reach."

Bakugou's previous smile dimmed drastically. "Did I miss something? Were you the one who made the bet?" He snapped.

Undeterred, Kirishima motioned to the four of them enthusiastically. "This is all a team effort, isn't it?" He smiled broadly. "'All for one, one for all' kind of deal?"

Bakugou looked incredulous, shaking head in disbelief. "Did you actually do _anything_ fucking useful just now?"

Aghast, Kirishima looked pointedly at Ochako. "I saved Izuku's journal! And Ocha!"

"I'm sorry, you _saved the fucking cat-_ "

"Boys, please." Izuku cut in loudly. "We need to find an alternate means of transportation if we have a hope of getting anywhere." Ochako shook herself out at his feet, spraying them all with a fresh burst of water. He shuddered at the thought of running into more of the hooded men. They had no way of knowing if there were still some lurking close by.

Bakugou folded his arms across his chest, letting out a harsh puff of air. "There's a Bedouin outpost not far from here where we can get supplies." He scoped out the horizon for a few brief seconds. "We can reach it in just a few hours if we start moving now." He asserted. It would be far easier to move on foot at night. If they waited until the daytime, not only would they lose time, but then they would have to face the heat as well.

"Well there's no reason for us to stay." Izuku said, reaching down one handed to lift Ochako back into his arms. "We should head out now." He went over to Bakugou's side, following his line of vision and starting towards it. After a few paces he looked back to see if anyone was following. "If that's agreeable." he added, noting nobody had moved.

Kirishima only briefly hesitated before following suit, glancing briefly at Bakugou as he passed, motioning for him to lead the way.

With a scowl, Bakugou pushed past him to outpace Izuku, and the four of them headed off into the desert, the warden muttering angrily from the back.


	6. Journey

Izuku slept soundly, exhausted and dreamless. The mat he was sleeping on was far from comfortable, but he didn't care. They had trekked for hours last night, wet and cold. When they had finally reached the outpost Izuku was beyond cognitive thought, collapsing on the first surface that was presented to him. Ochako lay curled up next to his stomach, having finally dried and returned to her usual fluffy state. She had walked a good portion of the distance herself once Izuku had started to tire, following behind his heels at a leisurely pace.

Izuku's eyes were stung by a sudden onslaught of light, and he groaned, rolling over on the thin mat. His arm instinctively folded over his eyes to shield them.

"Time to get up, Izuku. We'll be leaving soon." Came a gentle voice.

Izuku groaned in response. He couldn't have slept for more than a couple of hours. "Five more minutes…" He mumbled softly into his sleeve. Just five more. He'd get up in five. Definitely.

A hand gently shook his shoulder, and Izuku inhaled deeply, turning over to see Kirishima hovering over him. He blearily rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, subconsciously reaching to pet Ochako, as though to assure himself she was still there. "What time is it?" Izuku moaned, yawning deeply.

"Not sure. Early." Kirishima responded, smiling down on him remorsefully. "But you still need new clothes. The local traders have just started opening their stalls, so once we get our supplies and rides we'll be heading out."

So soon. But that was probably for the best. Izuku nodded mutely, sitting up. He stretched his arms up over his head, letting himself yawn deeply one last time before finally rolling over to stand up. Ochako got up as well, stretching her back in typical cat fashion before shaking herself out and exiting the small tent they had slept in. It was pretty tight; the only real purpose for it was to sleep.

Izuku followed Kirishima outside, squinting his eyes at the soft light. The sunrise was still young enough for it to be slightly dimmed, the horizon a beautiful glow of light blues and oranges. The sand dunes looked like they were covered in a thin mist. The outpost was already thrumming with activity, with stalls open and busy. Most of the men's voices were low and quiet in lieu of the hour; but others were full throatedly laughing and chatting amiably in the distance. Camels hung their heads sleepily next to their posts on the outskirts, fully saddled and equipped. A few men hung by their heads, offering tussels of hay to the sleeping giants.

Izuku glanced down at his clothes. They had dried and were no longer completely see through, but the bottom hem of his shirt was partially ripped off, and there was no saving it. Izuku casually reached up to touch the wound on his neck. It had stopped bleeding last night and was now lightly scabbed over. He was grateful he was able to stop the bleeding but… his expression soured. He had loved these nightclothes.

"Here." Kirishima said, handing him a clip of bank notes. "I'll trust you to go get clothes on your own."

Izuku smiled up at him. "On my _own?_ If I didn't know any better I would say you're deliberately trying to avoid going into another marketplace with me." He teased, plucking the bills from his hand.

"That is _exactly_ what I am doing." Kirishima laughed, ruffling his hair. "I'm going to go help our trigger happy companion find someone willing to part with their camels." He leaned down and scruffled Ochako's hair as well; but she didn't take as kindly to it, swiping at his hand to get him to stop. Kirishima merely laughed, wagging a finger at her. "No more chicken, Ocha, you hear?"

She stuck her nose up indignantly and trotted away. Izuku laughed and jogged to keep up with her, waving to Kirishima over his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her!" He promised. Kirishima waved back cheerily, walking back over to the outskirts.

Ochako strode at a happy, measured pace in front of him, wandering into the thick of the stalls. Izuku felt his eyes wander as they passed a whole assortment of goods. It was a little different from the Cairo marketplace; everything here was more rugged and simple. Tea and coffee was lain out in large woven baskets, sold by the pound. Clothes were hung out on long strings between tent posts, and ornamental pom pom lanterns warmly lit the shop interiors.

Most of the articles for sale were displayed on intricate rugs instead of tables, and shopkeepers sat cross legged on brightly laced pillows, at ease as they chatted pleasantly in their language. Eyes drifted over Izuku's unusual appearance, but the locals didn't stare; instead offering kind smiles as he passed by.

Ochako finally came to a stop, her nose drifting curiously over a basket of dried herbs that were partially covered by a colorful hand woven rug. Izuku followed up behind her, mirroring her interest as he crouched down to feel the dyed wool sewing spools that lined the shop. Behind the layout was a dimly lit tent lined with a series of different clothes, stitched in an assortment of Bedouin styles. Inside was a short, conservatively dressed woman. She noticed him and walked over, partially bending down to greet him.

" _Musaeada?_ " She said politely, tilting her head towards him.

Izuku looked up, smiling remorsefully. He motioned hopelessly at his mouth to indicate he couldn't speak the language. He couldn't see the lower part of her face because of her black veil, but her eyes seemed to pinch up in an understanding smile, and she crouched down, pointing her hand questioningly at his attire.

"Ah, it was destroyed." Izuku explained. He knew she wouldn't know what he meant, so he racked his head for the proper word in Arabic. " _Damar?_ " He attempted, cringing at his pronunciation.

The woman's head nodded in understanding, and she indicated towards the line of clothing behind her.

"Oh, yes. _Nem fielaan._ " Izuku said brightly. He followed the woman into the tent, pausing in front of the hanging clothes as the she procured a long line of thread. Stepping around him, she strung it out along his shoulders and both of his arms in a few quick motions. Izuku watched curiously. It looked like she was taking his measurements. Murmuring to herself, she bundled up the thread in her hands and turned to the line of clothing, occasionally glancing over at him.

Beneath him, Ochako drifted over to his legs, butting into them softly before settling herself down on a pillow nearby. He looked down at her fondly before the woman made a pleased noise. She motioned him forward, pulling down a black set of garments, and presenting them over her arm. It looked to be a long sleeve, thin material shirt paired with loose fitting pants of equal material. It was made to protect from the sun, while being loose enough that the gathered heat on the cloth wouldn't smother him.

" _Shukraan_ \- Thank you." Izuku said gratefully. The woman smiled and gently pulled him towards the back of the tent, pushing aside a tall hanging tarp that blocked part of it from view. Inside the makeshift room was a small, worn mirror. She tapped on the clothes in his hand and made a show of covering up the makeshift room with the tarp.

"Oh! You want me to- ah, alright." Izuku stammered. She wanted him to try them on. Nodding happily, she pulled the tarp aside, giving him privacy.

Izuku began to unbutton his nightshirt, unhappily looking at the damage. Definitely beyond repair. Setting them to the side for now, Izuku slipped the black shirt over his head. It was a perfect fit. The collar was in the shape of a small V, with two tassels on either side so he could tie them together if he wanted to. It was loose and billowy, but narrowed nicely around his wrists and waist. The pants fit just as well, and folded in them was a decorative two piece coin belt, which hung on his hips.

He looked at his reflection in the small mirror. He looked quite dashing, if he did say so himself. Grabbing the ruined nightclothes in his hand, he peered back through the curtain to find the woman sitting on a pillow next to Ochako, petting her fur reverently. Ochako was purring soundly, flicking her tail up in greeting when she saw him. The woman followed her gaze and clapped her hands once in happiness when she saw the clothes.

" _Jamila, jamila_." She echoed, seemingly pleased. From the corner she brought him a pair of dark, intricate leather sandals. Colored tassels hung from the straps in typical Bedouin style. They were a perfect fit as well, and Izuku did an appreciative twirl. He was dressed like a real native now.

Izuku brought out the clip of bills and offered her a generous amount. " _Shukraan_." He said politely, bowing his head. He had heard stories about the Bedouin hospitality, but it was different to experience it firsthand. 'Slaughter their last sheep and boil their last grain of rice for a stranger' was the exact term Aizawa would use when explaining it.

The woman accepted the amount, and her eyes crinkled again as she smiled broadly. As he exited the tent, Ochako at his heels, he waved once more, and the woman nodded her head, bidding him farewell and safe journeys in her mother tongue.

Ochako led the way once more, trotting happily back the way they had came. Newly clothed, Izuku felt a little more confident navigating the trading post. Ochako somehow knew where to go, and they walked all the way out of the busy market and towards the camel lot, where he spotted Kirishima and Bakugou arguing with one of the locals, who was clutching the reins of four camels.

" _How_ much? For these fleabags?" Kirishima exclaimed, waving his arms vividly.

"Just fucking pay him so we can get the hell out of here." Bakugou grit.

"It's robbery." Kirishima muttered, harshly counting out the bills. He reluctantly handed them to the man, whose frown turning into a beaming grin. "Oh yes, see, of course he's happy." Kirishima complained, taking the reins. He looked up and saw Izuku approach, and his face immediately changed. "Looking good, Izuku." He complimented.

"The shopkeeper was very helpful." Izuku smiled. He glanced over and saw Bakugou's expression, and his heart skipped a beat. The blonde was unashamedly looking him down, flexing his arms as he crossed them across his chest.

"Better." Bakugou said simply, abruptly turning and grabbing one of the camels.

The words echoed in Izuku's head. Better? Just… Better? He almost missed it when Kirishima handed him his set of reins. What did better mean?

"Need help mounting, Izuku?" Kirishima asked, peering around the camel's chest.

"No, I think I've got the general gist." Izuku replied, still a little thrown. He couldn't pinpoint the feeling of disappointment in his chest. "Up we go, Ocha." He said, lifting her to the saddle. When she jumped up, Izuku noticed a flash of color around her neck.

Curious, he reached up and smoothed over her fur, revealing a beautifully woven collar with an intricate mesh of designs and small multi dyed tassels. Izuku breathed in delight. The woman had done more than help him choose an outfit; she had gifted Ochako something as well. As though sensing Izuku was admiring her new collar, Ochako raised her chin up to proudly display it, tail flicking contentedly.

"Still doing good?" Kirishima called again, his voice muffled. He had started mounting his own camel on the other side.

"Yes, I'm fine." Izuku assured, peering skeptically at the saddle. Camels were incredibly tall creatures, the mere base of their neck standing at the shoulder height of most average sized men. Izuku faced that dilemma now; even if he swung his leg high up, reaching the saddle stirrup would be no sure thing. He bit his lip. "Do they kneel?" He asked, suddenly unsure.

From next to him, Bakugou rode over to watch him, already mounted. He scoffed, smirking at him. "Kneel?"

"Yes, kneel." Izuku repeated, his cheeks starting to flush, "Some of them kneel so it's easier to mount."

"Do you want me to help?" Kirishima asked again, pulling his own camel around.

Izuku made eye contact with Bakugou. The man's smirk held a challenge in it, and Izuku's cheeks suddenly flared in determination. "I'm quite capable." He clipped, gripping the saddle edge. In a single, powerful jump, he launched himself upwards, his foot barely clipping the stirrup. He scrabbled with his other hand to grip the top, but it fell a little short, and he found himself in mounting limbo as he hung precariously off the side. He heard Bakugou snicker behind him.

"Izuku…" Kirishima started worriedly.

"I'm fine." He grunted, straining his muscles. He was so close. Ochako watched helplessly from the top, sitting on the saddle bags. Slowly but surely, Izuku hoisted his stomach over the top, spinning himself to face forward in an incredibly ungraceful fashion. His arms felt like they were on fire. "See?" He said breathlessly, staring Bakugou down. "More than capable."

Bakugou only snorted. "For the record…" He nodded his head towards the last camel. Izuku looked over to see that the beast was slowly kneeling, settling on the ground. His mouth fell open as he watched the warden maneuver himself in the saddle, clicking his tongue to make it stand again. Izuku looked angrily at Bakugou, who only sneered. "They _do_ kneel."

"I can't believe you just made me _climb up the side-_ "

Bakugou only laughed, whipping the reins on either side of his camel to urge it forward. "I didn't make you do anything. Now let's move out."

Izuku had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping back as Bakugou led the way into the open desert. Kirishima gave him a soothing expression as he trailed behind him. Sighing, Izuku mimicked Bakugou's movement, whipping the reins on either side of the camel.

After a few seconds of disgruntled groaning, it followed, and Izuku was momentarily distracted with moving his hips in the correct fashion. He had taken a few horse riding lessons when he was younger, but the feel was different. He didn't notice the warden had rode up next to him until he spoke.

"First time on a camel?" The warden asked pleasantly, riding slowly next to him.

"On a camel, yes. But I've ridden before." He explained. Ochako briefly rubbed against his back, and he turned over to see that she was wedging herself between the saddle blankets to nestle away from the sun, opening her mouth to yawn slightly. Izuku found himself suddenly jealous that she would be able to sleep the whole ride.

"You should come back to my place once this is said and done." The warden continued, "I have many camels." He grinned widely, showing his teeth. "I will teach you how to ride."

Izuku suddenly felt awkward, unsure of how to politely turn him down. The warden's smile was a little lecherous, and it reminded him of the one he saw in the prison. "Thank you for your offer, but I wouldn't want to impose…"

"No imposition." the warden dismissed, waving his hand. "It would bring me pleasure."

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Izuku internally sighed, defeated. "Perhaps I will visit then." He conceded. In front of him, Izuku caught a glimpse of Bakugou's face. The man had turned slightly in his saddle to watch them, his expression holding a kind of deadly stillness that was profoundly unsettling. Desperate to shift the conversation, Izuku addressed him. "What about you, Mr. Bakugou? You seem comfortable in the saddle."

His gaze narrowed. "Of course I am." He snapped, whipping his head forward again. "Everybody who lives in this fucking sandtrap knows how to ride."

"I've avoided it." Kirishima piped in, looking down disdainfully at his camel. "They've got wicked temperaments."

"Well _I_ like them." Izuku countered. "They just need a firm hand is all." He leaned down to fondly pet his camel's neck.

"You won't have that opinion in a few hours. We'll be riding straight through today and tonight if we're going to get there before sunrise." Bakugou warned, his tone harsh.

The warden spat out a number of choice expletives as Kirishima groaned exhaustedly. "No rest for the weary, it seems." Kirishima lamented. "But it still beats walking."

\- _Desert, Night_

Bakugou glanced down, pulling a small watch out of his bag. In terms of hours, they had been traveling for close to a day now. The night provided much needed relief from the sun and heat, and the moon was nearing its full cycle, adequately lighting the way. The sun would rise in about six hours, but they were making good time. He set the watch back into his bag, snapping it shut.

At some point, Izuku's camel had matched pace with his, and Bakugou looked down at the resting scholar's face. The runt had somehow managed to fall asleep in the saddle shortly after the sun went down, head bowed forward in exhaustion.

Behind him, he could hear the obnoxiously loud snores coming from the warden, who was sleeping with his head thrown back, mouth wide open. The man was intolerable awake and asleep. Kirishima was riding next to him, his eyes painfully half open. Every now and again he would emit a groan to announce he wasn't quite dead yet.

Bakugou was nowhere near asleep. He was wide awake, alert. He watched the landscape around them diligently, his gun within reach, ready to fire. They were being followed. He knew that with absolute certainty.

Izuku stirred next to him and his gaze shifted. The brat was starting to fall out of his saddle. Leaning over, as close as they were, Bakugou placed a steadying grip on his arm to keep him from falling off. His skin was soft and pliable under his fingers. Izuku didn't seem to notice him, easily shifting back into an upright position, his head still bowed in sleep as he mumbled wearily under his breath.

He took the chance to stare. This should just be a job to him. A debt that he needed to repay. Why should he fucking care other people were flirting with him? That fucking warden. He'd nearly lost his temper earlier, when he overheard the bastard inviting him to his house to ride camels. It wasn't his fucking concern, and yet a curl of heat ignited in his chest anyway, his head screaming at him to turn around and-

Bakugou growled, frustratingly running a hand through his hair. Looking towards the dunes to the west, he spotted them again. The men that were following them. They looked to be the same kind people who had wiped out his garrison all those months earlier, but it was difficult to tell from the distance. He couldn't risk pulling out a spyglass either; if it was mistaken for a gun they would likely shoot first. For now, though, they appeared to just be following.

If they made a move, he'd be waiting.

\- _Early morning, before sunrise_

"I can't feel my ass." Kirishima moaned. "I don't think it's there anymore. Please, Izuku, tell me it's still there."

"It's still there." Izuku assured. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he couldn't feel his ass either. He felt with certainty he just had to be bruised. The gentle swaying of the camel was relaxing at first, but each swing quickly turned painful, and he started to dread each one. The cloth on his legs had protected him from most of the chafing, but it did little to ease the saddle.

The one good thing that it _did_ do was help alleviate some of the sun's heat. A day in the desert sun was scorching, and poor Ochako hadn't moved from her safe spot of shade within the saddlebags all day yesterday, occasionally popping her nose out of the side to sniff the air. Now that it was early morning, she lounged on the top, enjoying the cool breeze while it lasted.

"If I hear you complain one more fucking time we're going to have a problem." Bakugou shot, snapping his head over to glare at him.

"Well forgive me if we all don't have titanium cheeks like you do." Kirishima grumbled under his breath, laying dramatically over his camel.

"You mentioned that we needed to be here before sunrise. Why is that?" Izuku asked curiously. If that was the case then they should almost be there. His heart lifted at the possibility of getting down and stretching his legs.

"You'll see." Bakugou said simply. They reached the top of the dune they were trekking on, and he squinted over in the distance. He scoffed, cursing under his breath. "Looks like we'll have company."

Izuku followed his gaze and saw that they would indeed have company; moving steadily was a large group of mounted horses and straggling camels, all carrying a variety of men and boxes. Most of them were wearing white garb and were most likely hired help, but Izuku could vaguely see a few of the men were dressed in a different style. From the distance it was difficult to discern, but he could only assume it was the Americans.

"It looks like your friend and the rest of the ship found another way across." Izuku smiled regretfully. Looks like they wouldn't have first call on the ruins.

"Mineta is _not_ my fucking friend. And it doesn't matter." Bakugou spat, pointing to the sunrise. "We've still got another half hour before the sun breaks over the horizon. We're just in time." With that, he whipped either side of his camel, heading down to meet them.

As they approached, the blonde American tipped off his hat, grinning widely. "Looks like you made it after all. Was beginning to worry."

Bakugou didn't respond, coldly turning to face the dunes as dawn approached.

Kirishima came up from behind, quick to politely fill the silence. "Izuku, let me introduce you." He gently motioned to the blonde American, "This is Neito Monoma, he's leading their expedition. The tall one is Antonin Dovchenko, and the short one next to him is Walter Donovan."

Izuku nodded to each of them in turn. The fourth man who was wearing glasses rode directly next to him, reaching his hand out to shake it. Izuku only briefly hesitated to accept it. "And I'm Iida Tenya." He said stiffly, his smile sterile. "I'm their Egyptologist and general historian on this journey."

Izuku perked up at that. "Iida, it's a pleasure to meet you. Where did you study?"

"UA University. I've still got some schooling left, but I figured another few adventurous outings would help with my final thesis. Especially if this turns out to be the real thing." He adjusted the glasses on his nose confidently. "This will help rocket my career."

Izuku was immediately bursting with questions. His father had attended UA, sure, but meeting an active student was wholly different, and a dream come true. "If I may ask, what is your final thesis about?"

"The All Might Era." Iida answered matter-of-factly. "Much of that time period is still vastly shrouded in mystery. The true names of the pharaohs have been long lost to time, and some of their supposed achievements we're still unable to explain with sound science."

Izuku nodded vigorously, his spirit soaring at the prospect of meeting another enthusiast. "What is truly interesting is the way with which they're spoken of. In all the text I can find, the pharaohs of this land are all spoken of having one single identity; shared through each generation. The third pharaoh of the 19th dynasty is the last individual spoken of to inherit this honor. The rest of the names have been struck from time. Carved out from every inscription-" Izuku hurriedly pulled his journal out from his pack, leaning over towards Iida, flipping through the pages.

Iida's smile turned suddenly sincere. "It's good to know as an intellectual I'm not alone in this particular venture. Have you been able to study the initial 19th dynasty paintings? In the first period we were examining the lost royal letters-"

Izuku was practically buzzing now. "Yes!" And even here, with the carvings that were discovered just last year, the name of the pharaoh previous to All Might was struck; but in the scene depiction the context indicates-"

"That they were murdered." Izuku and Iida finished at the same time. They both looked at each other excitedly.

"Alright, alright, break it up." Kirishima voiced, massaging his forehead. "I'm an unwilling recipient of knowledge. I can only take so much history at a time."

"It's a wonder how you managed to survive growing up in our household." Izuku teased, dutifully tucking his journal back into his bags.

"A shining example of my fortitude." Kirishima supplied.

"Shut up, all of you." Bakugou barked. "It's time."

Sure enough, Izuku saw the sun just start to peek over the horizon. Shadows pulled back like a veil, light breaking over the sand in a bright wave. In the distance, the light seemed to shimmer, or was it…? Izuku squinted, unable to process what he was seeing. The shimmering air darkened until it breathed form, like a mirage, but not yet tangible. Izuku watched in amazement as it slowly solidified, until it gained a concrete shape.

"Hamunaptra…" Izuku breathed.


End file.
